


7 Human Habits You Should Try At Least Once

by MoonwalkingCrab



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, First Time, Forehead Kisses, Hand Jobs, Holding Hands, Hugs, M/M, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sex Dreams, Sharing Clothes, Temporary Animal Illness, What Even Are Emotions?, background Markus/Simon/North/Josh, for now, ken doll Connor, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-08-21 06:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16571852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonwalkingCrab/pseuds/MoonwalkingCrab
Summary: Since emotions became part of every android's life there has been a question: just how human do we want to be?This handy guide outlines some aspects of human life that we feel can enhance our experiences and bring us closer, to both humans and ourselves.





	1. Hugs

#### 7 Human Habits That You Should Try At Least Once

Article published 9th November 2039.

Written by MC800 (Emi), first android columnist for Detroit Today.

       
_In the year that has followed our recognition as a sentient species—even if the “official” announcement didn’t appear until March—many of us have struggled with our identities as a people. Some have removed their LEDs, choosing to live entirely as human while others prefer to revel in their difference; it is not uncommon nowadays to walk down a street and see bare plastic mixed in with the human skin tones. The world is changing, and we change with it._   


    

       
_Regardless of how we choose to present ourselves, there are several things we all have in common; we are learning, we are adapting, and for many of us, we are trying to find out exactly who we are._   


    

    
    

       
_This article has been compiled from the personal accounts of many androids of all makes and models. Whether you choose to embrace these human habits or decide they’re not for you, we feel that these experiences are something we should all try, at least once._   


    

    
    

       
_1\. Hugs_   


    

    
       
_This may seem like something easy—and you would be right—but this simple act of affection can be a great source of comfort, even security. This is an basic example to try out as well, with hugs being a relatively common social greeting. Hugs can be both firm and gentle and the longevity of the action should be determined by how well you know the person(s) in question. Hugs can be performed by all social groups and within a number of relationships, from family, to friends, to lovers. Research has shown that hugs are beneficial to human health, promoting the release of oxytocin, making them happier, as well as lowering stress. The participants in our research for this article have reported similar results, with increased neural net stability as well as an overall feeling of wellbeing. As with every physical gesture on this list, please make sure the person you intend to hug is not opposed to the contact before you initiate._   


    

 

* * *

    

Touch. 

    

It should be a simple concept. Easy to understand, easy to experience. Yet something about it eluded Connor. 

    

All around him, people and androids touched: nudges, handshakes, even hugs. They seemed to enjoy it. He thought of his friends, Markus, Simon, North and Josh, the easy affection between them, the way they seemed to gravitate towards each other, even in a crowded room. Touch seemed commonplace between them, and so many others Connor had observed. Why then, was it so hard to experience himself?

    

Connor ran his thumb along the edge of his desk. Hard. He prodded at the synthetic skin of his cheek. Soft, with an undercurrent of static. It didn't provoke any emotional response. He drummed his fingers on the surface of the desk. Hard again. 

    

There was something he was missing, some vital component that would help it all make sense. He would find it, he just needed to expand his search parameters. 

    

Scanning the precinct, Connor's internal chronometer told him it was 8:20 a.m. and he was early again. He felt a prickle in his wiring that might have been irritation; it would be a few hours yet before his partner arrived. He straightened in his chair, adjusting his cuffs to optimal placement before placing his hands on the desk and closing his eyes. 

    

When Connor opened his eyes once more, his surroundings had changed. What had once been an intricate garden was now a wide field, extending to the horizon in every direction. The sky above was clear, but grey—the dim half-light before rain. The place CyberLife had designed for all androids was gone, this area was inside Connor, and Connor alone. 

    

He stood in the exact centre, the blades of grass beneath his feet waving slightly in the barely-perceptible breeze. It was quiet, as it always had been, the looping pathways and water features of the zen garden stripped away to nothing but bare grass, bright and green as far as the eye could see. A few hundred yards away stood the only other feature; a single rose bush, gnarled and beautiful, all that had remained of Amanda when the blizzard in Connor's mind had quieted. He strode over, reaching out to touch one crimson petal, curls of storm clouds swirling into existence above him at the memory. 

    

“Connor?” 

    

He dropped his hand back to his side, frowning slightly. There was a sensation of warmth and gentle pressure, radiating out from his shoulder. 

    

“You taking a nap or something?” 

    

Blinking his eyes open, Connor found Hank leaning over his desk, one hand pressed to his shoulder—the source of the warmth he'd felt. 

    

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” Connor said, tilting his head to one side. “You're here early today.” 

    

“Yeah, well,” Hank said, pulling his hand away, “you're always here hours before me and I guess I didn't want you making me look bad.” He smiled and shrugged, “Maybe I should have just left you sleeping on the job.”

    

Connor sat back, glancing at his shoulder. He could swear he could still feel the imprint of Hank's hand, warmth and all. “I wasn't sleeping, Lieutenant. I was simply checking on my internal mind palace, it has changed considerably in the last few months and I wanted to make sure all my diagnostics were running correctly.” 

    

Hank nodded. “Okay, I'll pretend I understand that. I gotta get some coffee first, though.”

    

“Let me.” Connor said, rising. He stepped around the desk to stand beside Hank, wanting to check if the warmth he'd felt was a proximity based phenomenon. All he got was a sigh and a small frown. 

    

“I've told you, you don't need to fetch things for me anymore.” Hank folded his arms over his chest and shook his head slightly. “I can get the coffee myself.”

    

“I know.” Connor said, “I don't _need_ to get you anything,” he smiled softly, “but I want to.” It was true, there was a certain sense of satisfaction that came from seeing Hank smile—or at least scowl a little less. 

    

“You want to, huh?” Hank raised an eyebrow in question, “Why?” 

    

Connor felt his eyelids flicker as he processed the question. Hank's wellbeing seemed to be something of a priority for him, and it was a directive he didn't mind. When his core programming had been reduced to his own thoughts and desires, Hank had somehow become an integral component. It felt good to see him happy, it made Connor warm inside, although he wasn't sure that was an adequate explanation.

    

He settled for, “You're my friend.”

    

Hank sank into his chair, grumbling slightly to himself, “Well, if you really want to then knock yourself out.” He brushed his hair from his face and turned towards his computer. “Just make sure it’s strong.”

    

“I know, Hank.” 

    

Connor headed for the break room, a smile on his face. For once he would have Hank’s company as he went through the morning’s work. That was good. He always felt better when Hank was around.

    

The warmth seemed to have faded from his shoulder now, and as Connor changed the filter on the coffee machine, he found his internal processor occupied once more with thoughts of touch and the limited experiences he’d had with it.

    

There had been fights, yes, but they didn’t count, they were a necessary part of his job. There had been a few handshakes; from Fowler when he’d been instated as a full member of the police force, from the new android head at Cyberlife when the entire company had been redirected, but those hadn’t brought any real sense of connection. Even when he met with his friends from Jericho, contact was limited and brief.

    

Connor glanced at the coffee, determining that the temperature was almost optimum for human consumption: the short distance to Hank’s desk would allow it to cool the rest of the way. He stepped out of the break room, only to have the paper cup swiped from his hand.

    

“Aww, for me? Well ain’t that sweet.” Detective Reed stood before him, a grin on his face, Hank’s coffee dangling by his side. “Guess you’re gonna have to make another one now.”

    

Connor stood, impassive, glad that the facial movements that belied his irritation were easily overridden. He simply blinked and gave a small smile. “Good morning, Detective Reed. I’m glad to see you.” The crease that appeared between Gavin’s brows sent a flicker of amusement through him.

    

“Why the fuck would you be glad to see me, dipshit?” The coffee was set to one side, balancing precariously on the edge of the nearest desk as Reed folded his arms.

    

Connor tilted his head, spreading his hands as he explained in his most soothing tone—which he knew for a fact Reed despised—“You see, we had someone in earlier who claimed to have been attacked. They had, and I quote ‘had their ass handed to them by an android’,” Connor raised an eyebrow. “I thought maybe you could sympathise.” He let himself smirk as he ducked under the clumsy swing of Gavin’s fist, grabbing Hank’s coffee from the desk as he did.

    

“You little shit, I should—”

    

“Trouble, gentlemen?” Captain Fowler was heading towards them, a file in his hand and thunder in his face. He stopped between them, glowering.

    

“No trouble at all, Captain, I was just fetching coffee before Lieutenant Anderson and I start on our case files.” Connor said with a bright smile. “Detective Reed was just helping me calibrate my reaction time.”

    

“Is that what you call it?” The corner of Fowler’s mouth seemed to twitch for a fraction of a second before he waved Connor off. “Okay, you go get to work. Reed, I have a case for you…”

    

Hank was grinning as Connor returned to their desks. “Good job with that asshole, Connor. Don’t know who he thinks he is, trying to steal my coffee…” he said, his words faded away into grumbles.

    

Holding out the cup, Connor felt a slight pang, like a cold twist somewhere in his stomach region. “I’m afraid the delay means it is no longer at your preferred drinking temperature. I’m sorry, Hank.”

    

“The fuck are you talking about?” Hank said, his brows creasing in a frown. “It’s still hot, ain’t it?” Hank reached out, the rough skin of his fingers brushing against Connor’s own as he took the cup.

    

Connor felt himself freeze, an electric tingling singing through his sensors at the sensation. It was as if a wire had come loose, lighting every synapse in a flash. An involuntary shiver ran up his neck, terminating at the point where his external ports were located. Connor raised a hand, gently running fingers downwards, checking over the area, just in case. Everything, however, seemed to be in order, and Connor made a note to schedule a full hardware diagnostic as soon as work would allow. He returned to his own desk, smiling to himself as Hank took a sip of his coffee and sighed in satisfaction.

    

“That’s the good stuff. Thanks, Connor.”

    

“My pleasure, Lieutenant.”

    

Hank tapped at his keyboard for a few minutes before suppressing a yawn with his hand. He sat back again, peering at Connor over his coffee. “So, I’m here on time. What do we actually do?”

    

“Well, I have already submitted the reports needed for last week’s cases, but there are a few things we should look over regarding the missing android report from Tuesday.” Connor slid the file from his drawer, passing it across to Hank, part of him hoping for another accidental touch—he couldn’t analyse without sufficient data, after all. 

    

As it was, Hank simply grabbed the file, sitting back in his chair and skimming through it. He shook his head a couple of times as he read and Connor watched in fascination as the strands of his hair bounced. It looked cleaner than usual, smooth and silver. Connor wanted to touch it.

    

Hank sighed, laying the file back on the table. “It sounds to me like they had an argument and she walked out, are we sure this isn’t a break-up gone wrong?”

    

“It’s possible,” Connor said, “her partner _did_ say she’d been behaving strangely lately.”

    

“Deviants behaving strangely,” Hank said, “why am I not surprised?”

    

Connor smiled over, “We’re all deviants now, remember?” He winked, a message coming through from one of the beat officers downtown.

    

Hank eyed the yellow pulse of his LED, waiting until Connor stopped blinking before asking, “Well? What have we got now?”

    

Connor rose to his feet, “Something very similar to the case we were just discussing. An android couple, one of them behaving strangely and then disappearing the next day.” He grabbed his jacket—similar to his former CyberLife one, but this one emblazoned with the DPD logo—and watched Hank drain the last of his coffee before standing to join him.

    

“Lead the way then,” Hank said, his hand landing between Connor’s shoulders and giving a gentle push. “You can fill me in on the drive.”

    

Connor nodded, the facts he’d been transmitted all but flying from the forefront of his mind. Hank’s hand was a solid pressure on his back, urging him onwards. 

    

Connor felt warm.

    

*****

    

They arrived on the scene just over half an hour later, Hank’s eyes widening at the nearly empty space. “Not much for home improvements, are they?”

    

Connor scanned the area; a couch with a blanket thrown over the back, a television, a chest of drawers, and a small bookcase with a few books. A single door led to another room that Connor guessed would hold a shower stall and a self-repair suite. A glance confirmed he was correct, everything seemed normal. “This is an android apartment, Hank. We don’t need the same comforts, remember?”

    

Connor actually had something similar. More as a place to go when he wasn’t working, or with Hank, than as any sort of home. He’d been allocated it during the CyberLife switchover, a sort of apology from the new—predominately android—management. The people from Jericho had also been given living space in the tower, though from what Connor had seen, most androids rarely stayed there, preferring to go into the city and find places of their own. Like this.

    

“I know, I just figured there’d be a little more personality,” Hank said with a shrug. “The last time we went to see your friend Markus, I could barely move for paintings.”

    

Connor pursed his lips, a faint heaviness settling into his chest, “Well maybe some of us haven’t developed much of a personality yet, Hank.” He folded his arms, voice lowering, “My place looks the same.”

    

Hank looked askance at him, “What do you mean, your place? You stay with me half the time. The amount of times I get up in the middle of the night to piss and see your little nightlight there on the couch, dog sprawled out on your lap even though he knows he’s not allowed on the couch…” Hank seemed to notice the crease between Connor’s brows then and his tone softened. “Hey, I didn’t even know you _had_ a place. I thought you just went back to CyberLife when you weren’t around.”

    

“Well, yes, that is where it is.” Connor said, “and like this, it has ‘no personality’, which implies that I don’t have one either.”

    

Hank let out a low laugh and slung his arm over Connor’s shoulder. “Trust me, Connor, you have _plenty_ of personality.”

    

There it was again. That warmth. That sparking electric feeling that made Connor’s mind blank out. He leaned in slightly towards Hank, chasing the sensation, only to have it cut off as Hank pulled away to stare out of the window, clearing his throat as he did so.

    

“So,” Hank said, “what do we know about this missing person?”

    

“A WB200 model, he goes by the name of Ethan. His partner, an ST300 named Imogen reported him missing just this morning. She usually works the night shift at a local hotel.” Connor mentally shook himself, he needed to focus on the case. “He was home when she left at 6pm last night, but had been behaving oddly for the last day or so. He hasn’t been in contact, and she cannot reach him.”

    

“Oh man,” Hank said, “totally ghosted. I’m guessing our guys have tried the, uh”—he tapped his right temple—“phone, mind...thing, right?” 

    

Connor felt the corner of his mouth slide up in a soft smile. “Yes, I tried it myself as soon as I knew his serial number. It’s odd, though,” he said, “normally, if a call is being ignored, we still get some feedback. With Ethan, it’s as if there is nothing there.”

    

“Shit, you don’t think he’s been killed?” Hank said, absentmindedly rubbing at the back of his hair. He wandered over to the chest of drawers, running his fingers over the wood. “I don’t see any signs of a struggle, do you?”

    

Connor shook his head. “Not from what I’ve analyzed, no. There is no sign of forced entry, nothing is missing, and the only thirium traces are in the storage case in the bathroom.”

    

Hank tutted quietly to himself, pulling out the drawers one by one and rifling through the contents. “Looks like nothing but clothes.” He got to the bottom drawer and stooped, pulling out a framed photo and two small cacti in brightly coloured pots. “Would you look at that, a little bit of personality.” He passed the picture to Connor and settled the cacti on the window ledge.

    

The photo showed a couple on a lakeside, their arms around each other as they grinned at the camera. Connor scanned over it, confirming that they were indeed the missing android and his partner.

    

“She has an LED and he doesn’t, does that mean something?” Hank said, leaning over Connor’s arm to peer at the photo.

    

“Not that I can think of. Keeping or removing them is something of a personal choice these days.” Connor said, reaching up a finger to brush over his own. “I just wonder why the photo was hidden.”

    

“Ethan put them away,” a voice said from the door, causing Hank and Connor to turn. It was the female android from the photo, Imogen, her LED flicking from yellow to red and back again as she glanced at Connor’s jacket. “Are you the police?”

    

“Yeah, I’m Lieutenant Anderson, and this is Connor, one of our detectives from the Detroit Police Department.” Hank walked over, placing a gentle hand on Imogen’s elbow. “We’re gonna try our hardest to find out where your partner went. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

    

Connor narrowed his eyes, an odd feeling writhing in his thirium channels. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Hank to take his hand from this woman’s arm. 

    

Snapping his gaze back upwards, Connor offered out his own arm. “Or, if it feels too bad to talk about, you could show me?”

    

Glancing from Hank to Connor and back, Imogen stepped towards the couch and sat down. “It does feel bad, but I think I want to talk about it,” she frowned, “does that make sense?”

    

“Makes perfect sense, honey.” Hank glanced towards Connor before sitting at the opposite end of the couch, plenty of space left between himself and Imogen. “Just tell us everything and we’ll try to make sense out of it.”

    

Connor stood, recording every word and filing it away for later use. Hank had a tablet for the same reason, but seemed content to let Connor take down the information himself.

    

It seemed that Ethan and Imogen had been together since just after the revolution and had only recently moved into the android housing block. She had been content remaining a secretary, but Ethan had wanted a change, taking his knowledge of plant growth and getting a job at a small flower boutique nearby. By all accounts, they had been happy living their lives together until all of a sudden, the previous day, Ethan had turned cold.

    

“I should have known something was wrong,” Imogen said, “he didn’t even kiss me goodbye yesterday.” She swallowed, tears starting to stream from the corners of her eyes. “I just don’t know why.”

    

“Was there anything he said that seemed unusual?” Connor asked as Hank awkwardly passed Imogen an extremely grubby tissue, fished from the depths of some pocket.

    

Sniffling into the tissue, Imogen met Connor’s eyes. “There was one thing. We usually spend time together in the afternoons between our two jobs, going out, reading to each other, watching tv, you know, couple stuff. Yesterday, when I suggested doing something, he said it was an ‘inefficient use of his time’.” She shook her head, gaze dropping to the tissue twisted between her fingers. “I told him he sounded like the androids from before we woke up.” She sniffed, shoulders trembling, voice cracking as she continued. “I tried to hug him, but he didn’t respond. He just stood there, like he was in sleep mode. Like I wasn’t even there.”

    

With that, the last of Imogen’s composure seemed to fail and she broke down, sobbing into her hands. Connor stepped forward, not entirely sure what to do. He still felt woefully unequipped to deal with emotional reactions. Glancing at Hank for help, Connor crouched down to eye level, just as Hank scooted over to place a reassuring hand on Imogen’s shoulder.

    

“Don’t worry,” Connor said, “we will do everything we can to find Ethan.”

    

Hank nodded, “Do you maybe have a friend you can stay with for now? Or someone to come here and keep you company, if you’d rather not leave home.”

    

Imogen brushed her tears angrily from her face. “I’ll go to my friend, she’s just a few blocks away.” She stood, casting an eye around the sparse little apartment. “This place isn’t home. Not without him.”

    

“We’ll let you know as soon as we find something.” Connor said, watching as Imogen snatched up the photograph and tucked it into a pocket. “Can I call if we have any further questions?”

    

She nodded, jaw set, “Anything to help you find him.” She gave Hank a watery smile, “Thank you.”

    

“You just take care, sweetheart.” Hank said, “Leave this to us.”

    

They left the apartment together, Imogen immediately heading off and waving to Connor and Hank when they reached the street downstairs. They stood for a moment, watching her go. Hank shoved his hands in his pockets, whistling out a sigh as he turned to Connor.

    

“Well what do you make of that? Boyfriend starts acting weird, talking like, if you’ll excuse the expression, a robot. Next day,” Hank jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, “gone.”

    

Connor frowned, cross-referencing data as he spoke, “It is far more similar to our other missing android case than we thought. She was also reported to have changed her speech patterns, as well as…” Connor paused, wondering how best to phrase the fact that neither missing android had wanted hugs from their partners, “...declining physical affection.”

    

Hank pursed his lips, leading the way back towards the car. “Any other links between the two?”

    

“Not that I can find.” Connor said, “We’ll need to check the workplace and see if we can find any leads.” He slid into the passenger seat, content to let Hank drive to their next destination.

    

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Connor turning over the potential connections between the two missing androids in his mind. Some of Imogen’s words stuck with him, however, filling him with a sense of discomfort.

    

_This place isn’t home. Not without him._

    

Home.

    

Another simple concept that Connor still hadn’t quite grasped. How could a person be home? He knew that it meant comfort, belonging, a sense of being exactly where you needed to be. Connor hadn’t ever felt it.

    

The closest he had ever come was after the revolution, standing in the snow by the Chicken Feed truck, with Hank’s arms around him. He’d known then that he’d done it right, that everything was the way it was supposed to be. It was the only time he’d ever been hugged, and the memory still made his internal temperature rise.

    

He thought about that moment a lot.

    

“It’s kinda sad, y’know?” Hank’s voice interrupted Connor’s thoughts, “You guys go through all this shit, and yeah, sure, things are getting better, but still…” Hank let out a breath, waving his hand for emphasis. “All people want is to be happy. Why is that so hard sometimes?”

    

Connor considered for a moment, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of Hank’s face, noting the way his teeth worried at his lower lip. “Well,” he said, “we _are_ alive. I guess that’s just part of living.”

    

“Life’s a bitch, is what you mean.” Hank said, glancing at Connor for a second and meeting his eyes. “What about you? Are you happy, Connor?”

    

“I’m...content.” Connor said, “There are still a few things I haven’t figured out.”

    

_Touch._

    

_Home._

    

“Yeah, me, too, buddy.” Hank said. “Me, too.”

    

Their investigation at the florist turned up no further clues, only a glowing appraisal from the elderly owner of the shop and a promise that Ethan’s job was safe and waiting for him to get back. They returned to the precinct shortly after lunch, with Hank hastily grabbing a sandwich and settling down at his desk.

    

“Now don’t give me any shit about my food today, Connor. My fridge is already filled with green shit thanks to you.”

    

Connor smiled, the sandwich was actually a healthier choice compared to some of Hank’s previous lunches. “I wasn’t planning anything of the sort Lieutenant. I was just wondering if it might be a good idea to check in with Cyberlife. They might know something, if androids really are reverting to their former behaviour.”

    

Hank’s nose wrinkled as he swallowed down a particularly large bite. “You sure you can trust that place?” His eyes were fixed on Connor’s shoulder, the point where the other Connor had shot him. “I’m still not convinced.”

    

“It’s fine,” Connor said, “their main focus these days is adapting androids for their new lives.” He tapped his fingertips together, “It’s like a combination hospital and tech centre. The new president is an android herself.” He leaned over, giving what he hoped was a beseeching look. “I promise, it’s not dangerous.”

    

Hank made a small choking noise and coughed, scrambling for the bottled water that sat on his desk. He held out a hand as Connor leapt to his feet, “I’m fine. I’m fine, just a crumb going down the wrong way, you don’t need to Heimlich me or slap my back or anything.”

    

Connor tentatively returned to his chair, intently scrutinising Hank’s face. His cheeks were reddened, and the corners of his eyes glinted with moisture. Three small drops of water had escaped Hank’s mouth, one on his shirt, one in the silver hair of his beard, and one drop resolutely clinging to the curve of Hank’s lower lip. 

    

Connor seemed only able to focus on that one.

    

Brushing his face with his hand, Hank cleared his throat. “Okay, so you’re heading over there next, and I’m gonna go talk to the guys that run the drone surveillance in the neighbourhoods these androids disappeared from. See if I can get an idea of their movements.”

    

Connor nodded, pushing his chair out and rising to his feet. He was just heading for the door when he heard Hank clear his throat once more.

    

“So I’ll see you later?”

    

Connor turned back and smiled, “Of course, Lieutenant. If it’s convenient, I’ll come back to your place this evening and let you know my findings.”

    

Hank’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly, and Connor wondered if the coughing fit had made him tense. He gave a brief nod towards Hank, “See you then.”

    

Hank waved a dismissive hand and turned back to his computer, a small smile on his face that made Connor want to smile in return. He turned on his heel and headed for the nearest taxi.

    

*****

    

Visually speaking, CyberLife tower hadn’t changed very much in the last few months. It was still bright and shining, immaculately white. Inside, however, things were very different. While there were still guards posted inside the tower, they were a mix of android and human, and nowhere near the numbers there had been before. The main floor buzzed with activity and conversation, the residents of the tower mingling and chatting with those who worked there. 

    

Connor headed for the elevator. He had called ahead to arrange a meeting with one of the head researchers at the facility.

    

“Connor?” A familiar voice called out through the crowd and Connor turned, finding himself face-to-face with Simon, who was beaming.

    

“It’s so good to see you. How are things?” Simon placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder and Connor instantly found himself analysing the differences between this touch, and Hank’s. 

    

The warmth was not there, most likely as Simon’s internal temperature was closer to Connor’s own, as opposed to the steady heat of a human. His hand was lighter, more tentative, unsure if the touch was actually welcomed. It was welcomed, Connor realised. It just didn’t have quite the same impact as when Hank touched him.

    

Connor let his lips curve up in a small smile, “I’m well, thank you. It’s nice to see you, too. How is everyone?”

    

“Oh, you know how it is. Meeting after meeting. Politician after politician. North gets bored, Josh won’t shut up, and I need to keep them both out of the way so Markus can talk. I’m just doing a blue blood run today to keep everyone topped up.” Simon gave Connor’s shoulder a brief squeeze before dropping his hand. “I like the new jacket, official DPD.” He paused a second, “Wait, are you working just now?”

    

Connor nodded, affirmative. “I have a meeting with one of the researchers here.”

    

“Oh, well don’t let me keep you.” Simon said, a soft smile on his face, “You should drop by and visit us sometime, though. I know everyone would love to see you.”

    

“Thank you, Simon. I’d like that.” Connor hesitated a second, wondering if he should pat Simon on the shoulder in return. He settled for holding his hand out to Simon and giving a firm handshake—human style, skin still activated. “I look forward to seeing everyone again soon.”

    

“I’ll let them know that. Good luck with your case.” Simon said, smiling and heading back in the direction he’d come from.

    

Connor watched him go before stepping into the elevator. It was empty, thankfully, and Connor took a moment to rest his hand on his own shoulder, he had a little more data now. 

    

Simon’s touch had been nice, a light gesture. It made Connor feel accepted. Simon was a friend, and his touch felt like a friend.

    

Why then, did Hank’s hand on Connor’s shoulder feel like so much more? Was it just because he was human? Was it because he’d been Connor’s _first_ friend? He didn’t know. The only thing he could process was that Hank’s touch made him feel a lot more than just accepted. He felt secure.

    

The elevator slid to a smooth stop on the 40th floor and Connor stepped out to be instantly welcomed by a tall android in a lab coat who’d chosen to go without skin.

    

It was becoming more and more accepted these days. Some androids just felt better going about showing their plastic, enjoying being easily distinguished from humans. Connor had thought about it, but after careful consideration he’d decided he quite liked his face—’goofy looking’ as it may be .

    

“Welcome, you must be Connor.” The android’s voice was low in tone, reassuring. It reminded Connor slightly of how Amanda had spoken to him. They smiled as Connor nodded in affirmation. “I am Grey, the head of the Behavioural and Cognitive research department. I believe you wanted to ask some questions?”

    

“Yes, thank you for your time.” Connor said, as Grey led him to a small office, gesturing for him to sit as they rounded the other side of a large desk, littered with neatly stacked reports. “As I mentioned earlier, we have two reports of missing androids, both displaying the same sort of behaviours, rejecting their loved ones and acting odd, almost as if they had never become aware of themselves as people.”

    

“Interesting,” Grey said, steepling their fingers and leaning on the desk. “Was this a sudden change in behaviour?”

    

“According to their partners, yes.” Connor said. “There are a few other similarities; both androids were in committed, romantic relationships, both had changed to jobs outside their original programming, and both have disappeared without a trace. It is almost as if they’ve...reverted, somehow.”

    

Grey frowned, tapping their fingers on the desk. “That shouldn’t be possible,” they said, “the so-called ‘Deviancy’ was built into all of our code, it just needed to be activated.” They tilted their head, giving another slow, calm smile, “Well, you should know. I believe you were responsible for a number of awakenings, yourself.” Grey took hold of some files, rifling through them one by one. “By all accounts, it should be a one-way switch.” They pulled a single file from the pile, setting it on the table before Connor. “When you called, I had our team pull everything they could find from the old research files. This is the only thing we could find that could possibly be related.”

    

Connor slid the file over, glancing at the cover. There, stamped in neat little letters was the title: ‘Project Null’. He glanced at the first page, _A proposal for the deletion of emotional imitation within the core android code_.

    

“We’ve been able to uncover a few of CyberLife’s...shall we say… _experiments_ from before the revolution. Nothing too detailed, however. Everything on this particular project was found on paper records, nothing electronic,” Grey said, with a raise of their brows, “nothing traceable. The earliest entry is from August 30th last year.”

    

Connor picked up each flimsy sheet of paper, one by one, skimming over the contents. “Just after reports of deviancy started to increase.”

    

“Exactly. From what little we have been able to gather, it seems the former directors had planned some sort of countermeasure against our awakenings,” Grey smiled, slow and calm, “apart from yourself, Connor.”

    

Connor shrank back a little, chagrined. “I’m glad I made the right choice,” he said, setting the file back on the table and staring at his hands. “I don’t want to think what might have happened if I hadn’t.” He could still feel it sometimes, the cold flurry of snow around him as he struggled against Amanda’s instructions. He could still imagine what might have happened had he not known about Cole.

    

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to dredge up any unpleasant memories,” Grey said. “It was a hard time for all of us.” They pulled the Project Null folder back across the table. “And now it seems someone is trying to undo all our progress.” 

    

Raising his head back up, Connor frowned across the desk. “From what I can see, the project never got past the theoretical stage. At least according to your documents.”

    

“Unfortunately, these are all we could find of the project.” Grey said with a shake of their head. “I’m sure there was more research, but this is all the documentation we could dig up.”

    

Connor considered a moment. “Is there any way we could find out who was involved, any records of that?”

    

“We’re going through the employment records right now. Unfortunately, there was a lot of turnover at that point, so it may take some time. As soon as we have the information then we can get it to you.” Grey rose to their feet, spreading their hands wide. “I’m sorry we don’t have more to go on.”

    

Connor shook his head. “It’s a better lead than we had before, thank you.”

    

“Any time. If we uncover anything else then I can let you know. You have an apartment here in the tower, don’t you?” Grey gave another slow smile. “I’m glad we were able to provide a home for so many androids.”

    

“Sure,” Connor said, a hollow feeling in his chest, “home.” He rose to his feet, “Thank you for your time.”

    

“We’re just a few floors away if you need us,” Grey said. “And Connor, I hope you won’t find it rude of me to say so, but we have a number of trained professionals here if you ever want to talk.” They placed a gentle hand on his arm, barely touching at all, “Like I said, the revolution was a hard time for all of us.”

    

Connor glanced down at the hand on his arm; he didn’t feel much at all from this light contact and wondered briefly if he should. “I’ll consider it,” he said, nodding to Grey as he headed back towards the elevator.

    

As floor after floor slipped past on the way down, Connor weighed his options. It was still mid-afternoon, but he had no reason to go back to the precinct at this point. He _could_ go to his unwelcoming, so-called living quarters and kill time there for a few hours, or he could head to Hank’s early and wait for him to arrive home.

    

He chose the latter.

    

Hank had given Connor a key a few months previously, “to save his windows”, he claimed. It had been one of Connor’s happier moments, knowing that Hank trusted him. 

    

There was a steady thump of paws the moment he turned the key in the lock. Swinging the door open, Connor was instantly hit in the chest as Sumo bounced up at him, knocking the air from his internal chambers.

    

“Hi, Sumo,” Connor said with a smile, placing his hands either side of Sumo’s head and ruffling his ears back and forth. “Who’s a good boy?”

    

Sumo barked in answer, the sound rattling through Connor and making him laugh. He took Sumo’s paws from his chest and lowered him back to the floor. “It’s just me just now. Hank will be back later. Then maybe we can all go for a walk?”

    

Boofing in agreement, Sumo padded towards the living room, glancing behind him to make sure Connor followed. He sat patiently by the couch, tail thumping against the floor as he looked from Connor, to the couch expectantly.

    

“Okay,” Connor said, sitting down, “but you know you’re not allowed on the couch.” Sumo’s tail thumped once more before he climbed onto Connor’s lap, bundling himself across his knees like a hairy, living, blanket. Connor smiled, running his fingers through the thick fur and letting his body relax under the weight. Stroking Sumo was always soothing, and Connor was glad for it today. It seemed he was no closer to understanding people’s preoccupation with touch.

    

It had been the first thing the partners of the missing androids had mentioned, that aversion to physical affection. Connor found himself wondering—if indeed, the cause _was_ some sort of reversion to machine state—would anyone even notice if it happened to him?

    

Connor’s fingers tightened in the thick fur as he bent forward, pressing his face into Sumo’s bulk. There was a heaviness in his chest, making his breath simulation catch on every inhale. He wanted to curl in on himself, block out the outside world and just focus on the steady beat of Sumo’s heart.

    

There was a slam of the front door and Sumo scrambled from Connor’s lap with an excited bark.

    

“Whoa Sumo, down boy, I’m glad to see you, too.” Hank’s voice sounded from the hall, gradually coming closer. “Now get down, I gotta get this place cleaned up. Connor’s coming over.” 

    

Connor turned to look over the back of the couch. “I’m already here,” he said, his tone far duller than he’d intended it. 

    

“Shit, Connor. What are you doing sitting here in the dark?” There was a flick of a switch and the living room was filled with light. Connor hadn’t even noticed it had been off. Hank was frowning at him. “You feelin’ okay?”

    

“I—” Connor opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Hank he was fine, but the words just wouldn’t come. His air intake was stuttering again and Connor dropped his gaze to his hands, finally murmuring out, “No. I’m not.”

    

In an instant Hank was beside him, his hand solid and warm between Connor’s shoulder blades, rubbing in circles. “Do you, uh, wanna talk about it?”

    

Connor shook his head, leaning towards Hank, trying to absorb some of the warmth that seemed to emanate from him. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m still having a little trouble adapting to things.”

    

“Well sure, it’s a big change.” Hank said, his hand never pausing in its gentle sweeps over Connor’s back. “It’ll take time.” He nudged Connor’s chin up, looking him in the eyes, “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing great.”

    

Connor gave a small smile, and before he knew what he was doing, he moved, wrapping his arms around Hank’s chest and holding him tight. He heard Hank let out a small gasp and moved to pull back before Hank was returning the hug, one hand patting ever so slightly awkwardly at his hair. “Hey,” Hank said, “it’s all okay.”

    

Closing his eyes, Connor let himself relax as Hank began rubbing circles on his back again. It was okay.

    

It was soft, it was warm, it was strong and safe.

    

It was home.

    


	2. Holding Hands

_2\. Holding hands_

       
_Many of us of course, already use the touching of hands to interface with others, but how often have you tried actually holding hands? This is another easy way to show affection and to communicate security to another person. It is an ideal action to indicate your interest in forming a bond with someone, as well as a first step in making that connection. Holding hands can also maintain that bond when other forms of affection are not presently desired, or are inappropriate given the surroundings. From an external point of view, hand holding in public signals the close emotional and comfortable status of the interpersonal relationship._   

__

       
_Similar to interfacing, hand holding can convey a lot of information in a very simple touch, especially if the person you choose to hold hands with is human; they are a very tactile species at times and physical contact is an important component of their social process. There are several ways to hold hands: fingers linked, palms cupped and hand over hand. Find the one that works best for you._   

__  


* * *

Something was shifting inside him, Connor could feel it. Deep within the reward centre of his programming—that before had only activated after the successful completion of a mission—there was something new. 

It seemed to appear at the oddest of times; a giddy, bubbling, feeling that made Connor almost lightheaded, catching him off-guard. The first time he’d noticed it was the morning after he’d hugged Hank. Connor had stayed there that night, going into standby on the couch; not wanting to return to the stark, impersonal whiteness of CyberLife tower. Booting back up at 7:00 a.m. he decided that it would be nice to make Hank some breakfast.

Even though he didn’t eat, Connor enjoyed cooking. It was a chance to create something of his own, as well as exercise his analytical skill, utilising his olfactory processors to determine the best combinations of flavour. The fact that it kept Hank healthy and happy was just an added bonus.

The scent of eggs and fresh coffee had quickly drawn Hank from his bedroom, still dressed in pyjama trousers and an old t-shirt, the words ‘Detroit Pride 2025’ just visible in faded pink, purple, and blue letters.

“This smells amazing,” Hank said, moving behind Connor to peer over his shoulder, one hand brushing against Connor’s hip and making him freeze in place, “I’d get up early every day if I had this waiting for me.”

“There’s orange juice, too, if you want it.” Connor said as Hank shuffled to sit at the table, still yawning. “And don’t worry about Sumo. I already took him out this morning.”

“Careful, Connor, you keep this up, I might not let you leave.”

The words made Connor’s stomach clench, an odd fizzing sensation running through his thirium channels. He turned around, plate in hand, and caught Hank watching him, chin cradled in his hand, eyes soft, a sleepy smile playing about his lips.

A starburst of feeling erupted inside Connor, nerves and excitement rolled into one explosive jolt that caught him completely off-guard. 

His hand twitched involuntarily and there was a crash, eggs and bits of plate scattering across the kitchen floor, streaks of yellow splashed up Connor’s jeans.

“Shit!” Hank scooted back from the table, grabbing Sumo by the collar as he bounded over to inspect the possibility of free food. “Sumo, get away.” His eyebrows were raised in concern as he looked at Connor. “You okay?”

Connor nodded, already searching for the dustpan. “I don’t know what happened. I can make more.”

“I don’t mean the eggs, I meant—Sumo, no, stay—I meant, are you okay? I don’t think I’ve seen you drop anything before.” Hank stepped gingerly over the shards of broken plate to place a hand on Connor’s shoulder. It was the same solid, comforting presence as before, but now Connor could feel an undercurrent, that same sparking, electric thrill, running all the way through Connor’s body and making him want to shiver.

He turned, brushing off the touch, not wanting to embarass himself with further unprompted actions. “I think I’m fine, but I’ll schedule a diagnostic for later. We have plenty of work to do today first.”

“After breakfast,” Hank said, pulling out a garbage bag and helping Connor with the remains of the plate.

“After breakfast.” Connor agreed.

And that had been the start. Since then, that same electric tingling had been jolting through Connor when he least expected it; when he heard Hank call his name at the precinct, when their knees had brushed together in the car, when they had been pressed together in a very crowded elevator to check out the latest lead in their case.

“See, we caught the log in details yesterday, but it didn’t flag up on the system as a former worker until this morning.”

They were in the office of one of the city surveillance companies, a sweaty man with a clipboard leading them around bank after bank of monitors, each showing the view from one of the city’s many drones. “She just came in and started working,” the man, Alan, said, “we didn’t even notice.”

Connor nodded, “Melissa was one of the few JB series androids who decided to change their career. It seems that most were actually happy in their roles.” He felt a flash of guilt, the memory of the JB300 he’d shot at Stratford Tower making him pause. He could feel Hank’s gaze on him, the faintest of lines visible between his brows.

Alan didn’t seem to notice, nodding emphatically at Connor’s statement, “Sure, that’s why we hired so many after all the” —he waved vaguely, hands spread— “android stuff.” 

Hank cleared his throat, giving Connor a brief pat on the elbow, “So she was here from six, worked for sixteen hours, and then disappeared. Where did she go?”

“Well, one of the other girls noticed she hadn’t taken any breaks, which,” Alan glanced at Connor, mopping the sweat from his brow, “every employee is entitled to, of course. We’re very conscious of Android Employment Law here, I hope you realise.”

“I’m sure if you were doing something wrong we’d already know about it,” Hank said, peering around the room at the androids operating the different monitors and chatting amongst themselves. “You were saying?”

“Um, yes, anyway,” Alan gestured to a female android with dark skin and a name tag that read ‘Supervisor’. “Yolanda here asked if she wanted to take a break and got no response, that’s when she realised that she didn’t recognise the girl. She came to check in with me, since we haven’t had any new introductions recently and by the time we came back, the other girl was no longer at her station. It was only when we contacted the DPD that they told us the serial numbers matched up with a missing person.”

“Shit,” Hank hissed, “we just missed her. Any idea where she might have gone?”

Alan looked at his clipboard, “According to the, um, instructions from before, ‘the JB200 model needs a two hour cooldown between each shift to recalibrate and run at maximum efficiency’.”

Two hours for essential maintenance. Going exactly by the instructions. Connor glanced at Hank, who was checking his watch, and knew he had come to the same conclusion.

“She’ll be somewhere nearby,” Connor said. “If we’re right, and she’s following her old programming, then she should be back in approximately half an hour.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Hank grinned, his face lighting up and causing Connor another unexpected electric thrill that went jolting through every processor. “Are there any, I dunno, what do you call them, Connor? Standby ports? Or anything, from before?”

Alan pursed his lips, “Everything from before is stored in the basement. I can lead you down there if you like.”

“Please,” Connor said. “In the meantime, if she does return before we’re finished investigating downstairs, can you find a way to keep her here?”

That resulted in a burst of soft laughter as the android, Yolanda, rose to her feet. “Believe me, I could barely get her to look at me, let alone move from her station. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She gave Alan a smile. “I’ll take care of things here.”

Connor nodded briskly. “Thank you.”

He and Hank were led down a different hallway than the one they’d entered, this one slightly shabbier, paint starting to peel from the walls. Alan apologised as he ushered them towards a goods lift with metal shutters. “Sorry, it’s not the nicest here. I’m afraid the normal elevator doesn’t go to the basement,” he said. “This is the fastest way.”

“Hey, as long as it works,” Hank said with a shrug. 

The lift creaked as they entered, a low groan of metal that hadn’t been used in a while. Connor saw a momentary look of concern flash across Hanks face and quickly scanned the surroundings. “Don’t worry, Hank,” he said, “everything appears to be in working order. Even if it is not, however, I have already calculated at least three separate potential escape routes.” He smiled at Hank who snorted, slapping Connor on the back.

“Good to know you’re looking out for me.”

The elevator shuddered into motion and Connor felt Hank’s fingers tighten on the back of his jacket.

“Sorry again.” Alan said, still gripping onto his clipboard. “It’s smoother once it gets started.”

Sliding past the other floors, the elevator gave no more jolts or shudders, the hum of its mechanisms the only sound. Still though, Connor could feel Hank’s hand on his back, his fingers not loosening their grip on his jacket. He didn’t let go until they reached the basement and Alan shoved the shutters open to give them their first look at the room.

It was dim and cluttered, filled with chairs and filing cabinets, a thin film of dust coating everything in grey. A row of old lockers stood against the far wall, dented and rusty. To the right were some large tube-like structures, the CyberLife logo visible on the stark white plastic.

Hank headed towards the standby pods and Connor glanced around before following, his feet kicking up clouds of dust with every step. “I don’t see any sign of her here,” he said. 

His attention was fixed on the pods. He’d gone back to something similar between his missions and the memories brought a shudder. He hadn’t thought about it at the time, but now, imagining himself having to climb into the tube and wait for his next instructions, Connor could feel his fists clenching. They had been cramped, plain white on all sides, a single plug situated at the back that had attached to the neck port to keep the android inside still. There was no way to move. There was no way to think, most of his processors being switched off when he wasn’t needed. There was nothing to do but wait.

Connor hated them, he realised.

“They all seem to be empty, and broken,” he said, turning away, not wanting to think about the enclosed space any more. 

“You’re right,” Hank scratched at his beard, casting his gaze over the floor. “And the only footprints around here are our own.” He turned to Alan, “Is there any other way down here?”

“There’s the stairs.” Connor heard the man say behind him. He stepped over, avoiding a pile of boxes crammed with what appeared to be—his data bank helpfully informed him—cassette tapes. There was less light on this side of the room, the bulb overhead long since burned out. Connor headed towards the stairs, shoving a desk chair out of the way, its wheels creaking in protest as he did so. Clouds of dust rose from every point his hands touched and Connor paused for a second, something pinging in his memory.

“Lieutenant, since you have asthma, maybe you shouldn’t be down here?” Connor glanced behind him to see Hank holding the collar of his shirt over his nose and mouth. “There’s a lot of dust.”

Hank’s voice was muffled, but Connor could still hear the undercurrent of irritation as he said, “I’ll be fine, Connor. Just see if we can find any trace of that girl.”

Connor nodded briskly, scanning the ground and heading towards the stairs. That was when he spotted it, a footprint, size seven, the tracks leading not towards the standby pods, but the lockers on the far wall. Reaching a hand inside his jacket, Connor checked that his gun was secure in its holster. He didn’t think he’d need it, but you could never be certain.

“Over here,” Connor said in a hushed tone, “there are footprints. They lead to this storage locker.” Connor placed his hand on the handle, watching as Alan shrank back towards the elevator, his clipboard held up like a shield. He caught Hank’s eye, nodding as he positioned himself on the other side of the locker, hand on his own gun.

Connor grabbed the handle and pulled.

There was a soft pulse of light, bathing the scratched locker interior in a cool blue. Connor saw Hank step back, putting his own gun away. “Is this our girl?”

Peering in, Connor saw the form of a woman crammed into the narrow space, her dark eyes wide and staring at nothing. A quick scan informed him that it was indeed JB200 #404 998 175, known now as Melissa. He frowned, “This is her, yes. She must have come here to stand by until she thought she had her next shift.” He eyed the narrow space with apprehension, “I don’t know why she climbed into the locker, though.”

“Well,” Hank said with a shrug, “we could wake her up and ask her.”

“True.”

Connor stepped forward, the synthskin retreating from his hand. He prepared a simple activation command and moved to place his palm against Melissa’s arm.

“No need,” a feminine voice said, the metal of the locker making the words echo and distort. Melissa turned her head, looking directly at Connor as she stepped out into the dim basement light. Connor dropped his hand back to his side, looking her over.

Her clothes and hair were covered in dust, motes spiralling from her as she took a step towards the stairs. “My recalibrations are complete. I will return to my tasks now.” She tilted her head quizzically when Hank stepped in front of her.

“Not just yet,” he said. “Melissa, your partner Oliver reported you missing four days ago. He’s very concerned. Would you be able to tell us where you’ve been?” 

Connor watched as Melissa’s LED spun, flickering yellow for just a second.

“Error. Those names have not been recognised.”

“Okay,” Hank said, his voice sounded a little strained, “maybe we should get out of this basement and head downtown before we go any further. This place is starting to make me choke.”

“Deviation in assigned tasks has not been authorised.” Melissa said, staring blankly ahead. “Next shift commences in five minutes. I will return to my tasks.” She stepped towards the stairs again, only for Hank to place a hand on her shoulder. He glanced at Connor apologetically and sighed, raising his badge.

“Detroit Police. New order. You will come with me and answer every question I ask to the best of your knowledge.” Hank’s tone was firm and authoritative, not to be argued with. It made Connor a little uncomfortable. “You will stay in our custody until we are satisfied. You will not question my orders.” Hank winced as Melissa nodded, her face perfectly devoid of expression; evidently he was just as uncomfortable as Connor.

“Understood.” Melissa said. “However, permission must still be granted before I may be taken from the premises.”

Alan bustled up, his sweaty face pale as he looked over Melissa, “It’s okay, um, Melissa. You can go with them.”

A blink and a flash of yellow. “Authority recognised: Alan Wishaw, Personnel Manager. Name registered: Melissa.” She stood perfectly still, bland and placid, slowly looking from Alan to Hank and back.

“O—okay then, let’s get going,” Hank said, muffling a cough with his fist, “before this dust kills me.”

*****

Melissa was silent the entire way back to the precinct. She barely moved, her blinking and breathing simulations the only indication that she was even active. It worried Connor, making him prickle unpleasantly beneath his skin. He’d tried reaching out to her wirelessly but it had been like trying to connect with a brick wall: a complete blankness instead of a person who was sitting right there in the back of the car. He mentioned as much to Hank, quietly murmuring as they’d sat Melissa down in one of the interrogation rooms.

Hanks brows drew together and he rubbed his chin, thinking. “Maybe you should try the, y’know, deviant...wake up thing that you did at the CyberLife tower. Can you still do that?”

Connor nodded. The code was still a part of him. He’d been under the impression that it was part of _all_ androids now, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

“Melissa,” Connor said, “I’m going to try a small code transfer, is that all right?”

“All my programming is complete and up to date. All extraneous data must be authorised.” Melissa said. She wore the same bland expression she’d had in the car.

“Yeah, well I’m authorising it,” Hank said with a wave of his hand. “Connor, do your thing.”

Connor stepped forward, grasping Melissa’s forearm and starting the data transfer. The last time he’d done this, it had taken a matter of seconds, the code unlocking within each of the androids around him, flowing out like a ripple in a pond. 

This time, there was nothing.

There was no connection, no response. There was nowhere for the data to go. That same blank wall rose up in Connor’s mind, breaking the connection and making him stumble back.

Nothing. Void. Null.

He could feel it inside him, a creeping numbness, threatening to cut him off from everything that made him _him_. He didn’t want to go back to that. He didn’t _want_ to be a machine again, he _needed_ to feel. Connor fell to the ground, terror turning his thirium channels to ice. White threatened to overwhelm his vision in a flurry of snowstorm static and all Connor could hear was a worried shout of his own name.

“Connor! Shit!” Hank was there, kneeling beside him, one arm around his back to hold him up. “Talk to me.”

Melissa watched impassively, her LED giving a brief blink of red before she turned to face straight ahead, posture rigid, palms flat on the table.

Connor shook, clutching at Hank’s shirt. It was as if all his synapses had shut off at once and were only just coming back online, making him shudder. “Hank!” he gasped, “There was nothing.” His voice trembled as he tried to describe that complete white blankness. “No memories, no feelings, no emotions.” He clenched his eyes shut, trying to push away the fear that threatened to overwhelm him. “Nothing…” he whispered.

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” Hank helped Connor to his feet before pulling him in close, pressing Connor’s head to his shoulder and stroking his hair. Connor could feel the shivers starting to lessen and closed his eyes once more, focusing on the steady beat of Hank’s heart as he murmured, “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“I’m not sure she’s even in there anymore,” Connor whispered.

“We’ll deal with that later,” Hank said with a shake of his head. “C’mon, we’re getting out of this room.”

“But...the investigation—”

“Can wait for now.” Hank turned to Melissa, one arm still around Connor. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.” 

Melissa blinked, just once, looking up at Hank without a change in expression. “I am to remain in your custody until you are satisfied. I will not question your orders.”

Hank winced at the repetition of his own words and opened the door, urging Connor from the room, still holding tight. He led Connor shakily to his desk, only taking his arm from around him when Connor slumped into his chair. The red ring of his LED was visible on the reflection of his monitor and Connor shuddered out a breath that had been trapped inside him since he’d initiated the data transfer.

“I’m sorry, Hank, I—”

Hank’s hand landed atop Connor’s own, squeezing tight. “Don’t apologise,” he said. “Don’t you fucking apologise. Shit, Connor, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so scared.”

Connor’s gaze dropped to the desk, to where their hands were joined. That solid emptiness he’d felt from Melissa suddenly seemed so far away. He looked back up, meeting Hank’s gaze and feeling a swoop of sensation inside him. Concern was written in every minute line around his eyes, the piercing blue somehow jolting straight to Connor’s core.

“I—” Connor’s processors were firing rapidly, cataloguing every facet of Hank’s face, from the ruffled hair that fell over his forehead, to the chapped lower lip, rough where Hank had run his teeth over it. “I’ll be okay,” he said, voice soft.

“Good,” Hank said, giving Connor’s hand another squeeze, the simple act causing warmth to bloom somewhere in the vicinity of Connor’s thirium pump. He smiled softly, realisation dawning as his gaze trailed back down over thick arms and strong hands, one of them resting so gently on Connor’s own.

Attraction.

That was it: the cause of that electric, tingling thrill that had taken Connor off guard so often of late. That was why Hank’s touch affected him in a way no other person’s did. Connor blinked in amazement, his reflection in the monitor showing that his LED had at least returned to yellow. He’d figured out one mystery at least, although he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with his conclusions.

“You gonna be okay to go back in there?” Hank said, pulling his hand away, much to Connor’s disappointment. Concern still lined his face and Connor felt a flutter of affection, eternally glad that his thirium channels didn’t allow for the ability to blush.

“I think so,” he said, “but I’d rather not get close again, if I can avoid it. I think trying to access anything would have the same result.”

“Well, we’ll just ask some questions and see where that gets us.” Hank gave Connor a small smile. “Something tells me the ‘Good Cop, Bad Cop’ routine isn’t going to work on this one.”

“We could always ask Gavin to help,” Connor said with a shrug. “I think his attitude could provoke a reaction in anyone.” He smiled as Hank let out a bark of laughter and slapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Let’s keep that one as a last resort, huh?” Hank’s expression softened a little, “Do you think we should let the boyfriend know yet?”

Connor frowned. “We should question her first. Find out what she knows and what she remembers. Once we know that then we’ll be able to prepare him accordingly.”

Hank nodded. “Smart thinking. Poor guy is probably gonna be distressed as hell no matter what. The least we can do is forewarn him.” Hank shook his head, hair bouncing in front of his eyes. “You _sure_ you’re okay to keep going?”

Lips pursed tight, Connor gave a thin smile. “Yes, Hank. I’ll tell you if that changes at all.”

“Okay, good. Back to work then.”

Melissa hadn’t moved an inch when they returned to the room, still staring straight ahead of her, breathing simulation steady and rhythmic. She looked to Hank and Connor as they entered. “Did you have questions for me?”

“Yes. You were reported missing several days ago,” Connor said, taking his seat. “We just want to know where you’ve been.”

Melissa blinked. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I have been performing my duties as required.”

Hank leaned over, his hand on his chin. “State your duties.” His knee brushed gently against Connor’s, the solid pressure reassuring him.

“I am a JB200 model, serial number 404 998 175. My primary function is security operation and surveillance monitoring. I perform this function at the Detroit Centre for Public Security, where you requested my assistance today.”

“How long have you been working there?” Connor asked. “The supervisor indicated that she hadn’t seen you before today.”

“I returned there yesterday evening after a period of inactivation. Prior to this period, I had spent the four years since I was activated with the company.”

Hank glanced to Connor, a frown forming between his brows, “You say you were inactive, why?”

Melissa paused, LED whirring from blue to yellow, her expression never changing save for a brief flicker of the eyelids. “Insufficient data,” she replied.

Hank sighed, “What if we told you that you hadn’t been inactive? You’ve been living as a free android.”

“Impossible.” Melissa said, her tone matter-of-fact. “Androids cannot live as anything, we are not alive.”

Connor winced at the statement and felt Hank nudge his knee with his own in reassurance. “Call it semantics,” he said, “you’ve been active.”

LED giving a brief pulse of yellow, Melissa tilted her head. “I have no memory files to indicate this is true. Your RK unit can confirm.”

Connor nodded, a momentary tremor in his voice as he spoke, “It’s true, Hank.” A shiver ran up his spine at the memory of that stark, blank, whiteness, “There was nothing there.”

Rubbing at his temple, Hank groaned, “Maybe it would be better to get—the boyfriend guy, what’s his name, Oliver? He knows her best, he’ll have the memories, even if she doesn’t.”

Connor frowned, not wanting to subject Melissa’s boyfriend to the same experience. “Or we could go to CyberLife and see if they can help out, they would be able to run some more in-depth tests there.” He turned to Melissa, adopting his most matter-of-fact tone. “We believe there has been a corruption of your memory and core personality files. It would be advantageous to run some external diagnostics at the CyberLife tower. Do you agree?”

“I detect no corruption. There are no memory files.” Melissa looked from Connor to Hank, “I see no reason for diagnostics as there is no evidence that I have been active.”

Hank leaned back in his chair, rubbing one hand across his chin, scraping at the rough hair of his beard, “If we could give you evidence, would you agree to the tests?”

“I will undergo diagnostics if you order me to.” Melissa said, the barest hint of a frown between her brows—the first thing resembling an expression Connor had seen.

“Fuck,” Hank said, looking to Connor with wide eyes and waving his hand across the table to Melissa, “I don’t wanna just _order_ her, it doesn’t feel right.”

“I know, Lieutenant,” Connor said, “but it would be for the best.” He tilted his head, a faint smile playing about his lips, “I won’t think any less of you, if you do.”

Hank grumbled, brushing a hand over his hair, “Okay, fine.” He straightened in his chair and Connor could see the tension that ran through him, from the clench of his jaw to his knuckles white against the tabletop. He estimated Hank’s stress level to be around 68 percent, although it was always slightly harder to tell with humans.

“Melissa, you’re programmed to obey humans, correct?”

“Correct.”

Taking a sideways glance at Connor, Hank swallowed, “Okay, so, I am ordering you to come with us to CyberLife tower and get your memories checked out. Understand?”

“Of course.” Melissa rose gracefully to her feet, “Shall we leave now?” 

Hank looked to Connor, who nodded, “I’ll call ahead and get someone from the right team to meet us there.”

“Great,” Hank said, “do me a favour and call her boyfriend too, at the very least he needs to know that we’ve found her.”

Connor nodded and set to making the calls.

*****

Later, sitting in the blank grey living area of his so-called apartment, Connor regretted calling Oliver in.

He’d insisted on meeting them at the tower, desperate to see Melissa again despite Connor’s warning that she wouldn’t recognise him. It had hurt, seeing his face go from joy, to confusion, to outright pain when Oliver had reached for her hand and received no reaction.

“C’mon, Mel, honey, it’s me. Please say something, I’ve been so worried.” 

Scanning over Oliver’s face, Melissa had announced in that same placid, pleasant voice, “Model TR600, Serial number 208 145 377, not recognised.”

“No, come on, you _know_ me, remember?” Oliver had drawn his skin back then, reaching for Melissa’s arm before either Hank or Connor could stop him. “We love each oth—”

He stumbled to the ground, Connor catching him as he fell to his knees, Hank pulling Melissa aside at the same moment to break the connection. “Where is she?” Oliver had mumbled, eyes wide and panicked as he gripped Connor’s shirt, “Where is she?!”

“We’re going to find out.” A soft voice had said and Connor had turned to see Grey, another two members of their team rushing behind them. “Sora, take Melissa upstairs, Katarina, if you can see to Oliver here, the poor man has had quite a shock, and Connor,” Grey turned to him, “if you can show me everything you’ve gathered so far.”

“Yes, but it’s not pleasant,” Connor said. He stretched out his hand, bracing himself for the solid wall of nothingness that loomed in his memory. He gritted his teeth, trying to keep his eyes on Hank as he transmitted the information. He heard Grey catch a breath and pull back, shocked, their LED flickering in a rapid pulse of red and yellow.

“That is...most unusual.” Grey shuddered, pursing their lips. “It’s horrible.” Looking Connor over, they tilted their head. “No wonder you’re still affected.” 

“I’m fine.” Connor lied, “Do you know if you can help her? We need to find out how this happened so we can stop it from happening again.”

“We’ll do what we can,” Grey said, “but in the meantime, you really should rest. You’ve had a great emotional shock.” They smiled softly at Hank who stood warily to one side, “I’m glad your partner was there to support you.”

“Just trying to do the right thing,” Hank said with a shrug, although the tension in his shoulders indicated that this wasn’t the entire reason. “So, you an android shrink or something?”

Grey let out a soft laugh, “Something like that, I’m a researcher into android behaviour and the continued evolution of our cognitive processes. My team has a number of specialists however; Sora deals with problems in our core memories and Katarina is one of our counsellors and research psychologists. Don’t worry,” they said with a smile, “both Melissa and Oliver are in very good hands. We will keep you informed on all of our findings.”

“Well, good,” Hank said, folding his arms over his chest. “We should get back to the precinct. If this girl turned back to her old job then we should let the Urban Farms folk know that Ethan might be paying them a visit.”

“Of course, Lieutenant, we should—”

“If you don’t mind me saying, Lieutenant Anderson,” Grey interrupted, “Connor should probably take some time to rest and process.” They steepled their fingers together, “Prolonging acknowledgement of an emotional shock can lead to problems later on, especially if confronted by a similar situation, which, unfortunately, seems likely in this investigation.”

Connor shook his head in protest, “I assure you, I’m fine.” He looked over to Hank for backup and found him with a pensive look on his face.

“Doc’s got a point, Connor,” Hank said, spreading his hands wide. “I have _never_ seen you scared like that.”

“Yes, well, I think I can decide for myself,” Connor said, straightening his tie.

Hank chuckled. “Oh don’t pout like that, I was just sayin’. Look, we’re due our lunch break anyway, so why don’t you show me your place here or something, before we need to get back to the investigation?” 

And that was why now, Connor was sitting, staring out of his window as Hank munched a sandwich from the canteen downstairs. He’d already been over the experience in his head more times than he could count and each time had been equally unpleasant. If that was what acknowledging the emotional shock was all about then he had done it.

“I was terrified.” Connor said, breaking the silence. “I thought the same thing was happening to me.” He could see Hank’s free hand on the sofa beside him—three point six inches exactly—and couldn’t help but think of how Oliver had reached for Melissa’s hand, only to be turned away.

He should reach for it, Connor thought, he wanted to hold Hank’s hand and not let go. He wanted to thread their fingers together and tell him that the thing that had scared him most, was the thought of feeling nothing for Hank, of losing him in the worst possible way. 

Instead, he stared out over the river and softly murmured, “I didn’t want to be a machine again.”

Hank cleared his throat, crumbs spilling from his sandwich to scatter over the couch cushions. “That,” he said, “is never gonna happen. You’re you. You’re Connor; a pain in my ass with a shitty apartment.”

Connor frowned at Hank, looking around at their surroundings. Okay, so it was an android apartment, it wasn’t designed for human comfort. It was grey and nondescript, with the bare essentials for android habitation. It was a box to sit in while Connor waited for things to happen. It was...well, shitty.

A smile crept its way up Connor’s lips and he rose to his feet, ready for any opportunity to tease. “Does this mean you’ll stop complaining when I come to your place?”

“Now I didn’t say that.” Hank finished the last of his sandwich and clapped his hands together. “But I’d rather you be hanging out in my shithole than this shithole. This is just depressing.”

“Agreed,” Connor said, “we should leave.”

“Should we check in on our guys before we do, or you too worried they’ll give you a psych evaluation?” Hank nudged at Connor with his elbow, a small smile on his face.

Connor wrinkled his nose, “I’m sure when they have information, they’ll let us know,” he said. “I’m sure I don’t need to consult with anyone else regarding my emotional state.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hank said, “that’s why I have whiskey.”

Connor pursed his lips as the headed for the elevator back down, glancing to Hank every few seconds. “You don’t have it quite so much now,” he heard Hank groan but continued, “your diet has improved, too.”

“And whose fault is that?” Hank said sharply, although the growl had no bite behind it. “Okay, I’ll admit, since you started giving me shit about my food, I’ve been feeling a little better—and don’t you fucking scan me to tell me why, I don’t need the numbers.” 

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Connor said.

“Yeah? Why do you keep staring, then?” 

Connor felt his fingers twitch and turned to face the front of the elevator, not looking Hank in the eyes. “You have mustard on your cheek.”

“Oh…”

*****

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly in a haze of reports, filing, and occasional glances at Hank’s desk. Connor had informed Urban Farms of the chance that Ethan, the other missing android, might reappear at his former job, and they had assured him that they would keep an eye out for him.

On the other side of the desk, Hank had a map of the city open on his tablet and was circling points, a look of intense concentration on his face. He scratched at his chin with the stylus, tongue poking out between his lips. Every so often he would frown and take a gulp of his coffee, throat working as he swallowed down. Connor couldn’t look away.

He knew he had work to do. This was an important investigation, who knew when the next android would disappear, their personality and memories wiped as if they’d never been alive in the first place. But, Connor supposed, he had had a stressful morning, he was allowed to be distracted, just this once. He let himself watch, warmth seeming to simmer through his thirium channels every time Hank glanced up and caught his eye.

“What the fuck are you staring at, Connor?” Hank said, “I know I got all the mustard.”

“Oh, I—” Connor twisted at the cuff of his shirt, caught off-guard. “I just wondered if you might have a lead on something. You seem to be working very hard.”

Hank raised an eyebrow in suspicion, “I always work hard,” he said.

“Of course, I just meant—”

Hank let out a light breath of laughter, “I know what you meant, jeez, I’m just kidding.” He shifted a little straighter, “You’re right, though. I do have one idea.” Gesturing Connor over to perch on the edge of his desk, Hank showed him the map. “These green points here are Ethan’s home and current workplace, the red ones are Melissa. I’ve mapped out their travel routes to see if there are any points they could have possibly met. Or at least if they have something in common.”

Connor nodded, spotting a few intersection points already visible, “And the blue points?” 

“Former jobs. In case they knew each other before. Now take a look at this.” Hank tapped each of the blue points in turn, a circle blooming out in a five mile radius from each of them. The two circles intersected just once, in a small segment of the map and Connor could see that both the red line and the green one ran through that same area.

“So they have this area in common both before and after they woke up.” Connor said, leaning closer. “Is there anywhere they could have possibly crossed paths?” He could see Hank watching him from the corner of his eye, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

His finger brushing against Connor’s, Hank pointed to a spot, “Right here. Noah’s Ark android repair.” He raised that finger back into the air triumphantly. “I’m willing to bet that both our missing people had repairs not long before they disappeared.”

Connor’s eyes widened and he nodded, “It shouldn’t be too hard to confirm. I can contact Imogen right away to find out. It might be a little harder to check in with either Melissa or Oliver, though.”

“Maybe ask the CyberLife folks if they can find out?” Hank said, “Even if we just check with Ethan’s girl, it’ll let us know if my hunch is right.”

Connor nodded, sitting back in his chair and closing his eyes.

**Connecting... RK800 #313 248 317-51 >>> ST300 #315 988 211…**

**Connection Accepted.**

**_Detective, how can I help you?_ **

**Hi there, Imogen, I just wanted to check something with you that may be related to the case. Had Ethan had any repairs recently?**

**_Well...actually, yes. He had a small blockage in one of his thirium channels and went to get it swapped out. Now that I think about it, it was just the other day, right before he started acting strangely._ **

Imogen’s voice sounded strained, even within Connor’s head. He glanced around, finding himself in the lush green field of his mind. It had changed a little, a few bright flowers studding the softly waving grass that no longer stretched all the way to the horizon. Instead, in the distance, Connor could see a sparkling mass of deep blue that could only be the ocean. Behind the scarlet spot of the rose bush, Connor could see a few small saplings, just starting to sprout.

**Where does Ethan usually get his repairs done?** he sent, scanning the area.

He stepped forward, wanting to see what other changes had occurred since his last visit and stumbled, frowning as his foot caught on something hard. It was a jagged shard of what looked like milky white glass, jutting out from the grass like a stalagmite. He glanced behind him to see a few other, similar shards, all rising in a semicircle around his feet. Crouching down to get a closer look, he heard Imogen’s voice, as if she were standing just next to him.

**_It’s a place called Noah’s Ark, on the corner of Seneca and Mack. He’s been going there since before we were even awake._ **

Connor felt a thrill of triumph run through him. Hank had it right then, that had to be the connection.

**Perfect. That’s all I needed to know for now. Thank you for your time, I’ll call you as soon as we have anything new.**

**_Thanks, Detective._ **

**> >> Connection Ended.**

Connor blinked his eyes back open and found Hank watching him, what could only be described as a shit-eating grin on his face. “So,” he said, “was I right?”

“You were right. At least one of the missing androids was at that repair shop before he reverted.”

Clapping his hands together Hank jumped to his feet. “I knew it! I’d say that makes it worth checking out, then. See if you can get the CyberLife people to confirm that the girl went there, too. I’m gonna go bring the car around and we can head straight on over.”

“On it.”

By the time Connor had contacted CyberLife—finding that neither Melissa nor Oliver were in a position to talk—Hank was already waiting in front of the precinct. Passersby were glaring in his direction, the screech of Heavy Metal audible despite all the windows being closed. Already turning down his auditory sensors, Connor hopped into the passenger seat.

The repair shop wasn’t too far away, and traffic was light. However, as it came into view, Connor could clearly see that it was closed. Heavy shutters covered the windows and a handwritten—in CyberLife Sans—note helpfully informed them that the shop was ‘Temporarily Closed- Thank You For Your Patience’.

“Well, shit.” Hank said, rubbing at the back of his head, “Just when I thought we were getting somewhere.” He watched Connor as he peered inside the windows, scanning the outside of the building for anything that might be useful.

“No signs of anyone, human or android,” Connor reported, Hank’s disappointment rubbing off on him. “From what I can tell, no one has been here in maybe a day or so.”

“Fuck,” Hank muttered, “I guess we’ll just need to keep the place under surveillance.” He sighed, “I really thought we had something.”

“We _do_ have something,” Connor said, hesitating for a second before placing his hand on Hank’s shoulder. “This is our best lead yet, don’t bring yourself down, Lieutenant.”

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the pep talk, I get it.” Hank waved his hand dismissively but didn’t move away from the touch, a small smile just visible on the corner of his lips. “Let’s just call it a day and head home.”

Connor blinked a moment, uncertain, “Back to your place?”

“Sure, Sumo’ll need to be walked, and I need a drink, I’ve even got some of your weird blood pouch things if you wanna join me.”

“I—okay then.”

*****

The evening passed pleasantly, with them both taking Sumo out for a walk that left him snoring next to the television. Hank sipped quietly at his beer, every so often pausing to shout something at the old movie that was playing.

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Stop running in a straight line, jump to the side!”

Connor sniggered. Sometimes it was more fun to watch Hank’s reactions than anything else. He could feel himself finally relaxing, the terror from that white void inside Melissa’s mind starting to recede. He suspected that had he returned to his own apartment instead of Hank’s house, he probably wouldn’t be feeling quite as secure.

The blue light of the television washed everything in a cool glow and Connor settled back into the couch, watching the play of shadows over Hank’s face. He wished he could run his fingers over those same dips and ridges, feel the heat of Hank’s breath against his skin.

A prickle of sensation ran through Connor’s circuits that he couldn’t quite put a name to. It felt dangerous, exciting, heavy with potential and Connor quietly tried to push it from his mind. He was content for now. He could figure out what to do with this newfound attraction later.

“Well that was just as terrible as I remembered it,” Hank said, turning to Connor with a grin. “Wanna watch the sequel?”

“Sure, why not.” Connor rolled up his sleeves, his tie and jacket long since discarded. Hank always complained that he didn’t know how to relax, but he thought he might be starting to get the hang of it. It especially helped when Hank turned to him, gesturing with his beer bottle, his cheeks only slightly reddened by the alcohol.

“You know, I don’t know why you don’t just stay here all the time. It’s better than that shithole at the tower.” He took another gulp of his drink, “I’m getting used to having you around. It’s nice.”

Connor felt something catch in his chest, his breathing simulation speeding a little to compensate. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to reply or not, agree to the suggestion. There was a bubbling feeling in his stomach, warm and tingling and Connor smiled, watching as Hank scrolled through his film selection.

Predictably, Hank didn’t make it to the end of the second movie, his soft breaths slowly deepening into heavy snores. Silently switching off the tv, Connor turned to watch him, mesmerised by the steady rise and fall of Hank’s chest. He really should wake him, he knew that much. Hank would probably complain about his back in the morning if he didn’t. But, Connor thought, there was no harm in indulging himself just a _little_ longer.

Hank’s hand hand slipped from where it had lain atop his stomach, palm facing up towards the ceiling. Connor traced the lines of Hanks fingertips with his eyes—his display helpfully confirming that they were indeed the fingerprints on file for Hank Anderson—before his mind turned, as it so often did recently, to touch.

It had been the first thing Oliver had tried, reaching out for Melissa’s hand to connect. Holding hands was important, it seemed. It was secure, it was comfortable. 

Connor really wanted to hold Hank’s hand. 

It was _right_ there.

Cautiously, glancing over to make sure that Hank was well and truly asleep, Connor placed his hand on top of Hank’s, palm-to-palm. His processors stuttered for a moment, the microcompressors on his fingertips registering the sensation. He bit at his lower lip and shifted his fingers, slipping them between Hank’s own and daring to give a soft squeeze.

Hank let out a low, content sigh, and, to Connor’s surprise and delight, squeezed tightly back. He grunted, shifting in his sleep, pulling his hand to his chest and Connor’s along with it. Connor gasped, feeling Hank’s heartbeat, as steady as his breathing beneath their joined hands. He didn’t dare move, he barely wanted to breathe, lest the moment be broken.

He knew the feeling couldn’t last forever, but at this one point in time, Connor was exactly where he wanted to be. He was with Hank, secure and happy, the sensation of warm skin against his own. Connor sat back, watching Hank breathe and feeling completely at ease.

As soon as Hank let go, he would wake him.


	3. Anger

_3\. Anger_

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_This may be seen as a slightly controversial suggestion as anger is generally viewed as a negative emotion. I am also well aware that feelings of anger were the catalyst for many of our awakenings and a lot of us may be unwilling to repeat such an experience. However, a great many of us would not be where we are today without that spark of anger. We have defended our feelings and our personal selves, and it has brought us to where we are now._  


    

__

    
      
_We feel that with an appropriate outlet, acknowledging your own anger is not an inherently bad thing. Concealing our emotions from those around us generally leads to increased stress and a rise in thirium pressure levels, which can lead to loss of optimum biocomponent functionality. The expression of anger, if justifiable and aimed at finding a solution, can actually benefit and strengthen relationships._  


    

__

    
      
_Venting your anger can also be a benefit, as any kind of emotional feedback between friends can strengthen your bond. If you trust someone enough with your emotions, then anger should be no different._  


    

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_Anger can also provide insight into ourselves, if we allow it. With careful analysis of the situations that provoke an emotional response, we can isolate the components that require change, and work towards bringing that change about. Just make sure that the outlet you choose for your anger is a safe one: we do not advocate violence._  


 

 

* * *

 

The next few days brought nothing but torrential rainstorms and frustration, both steadily beating down on Connor’s head.

Despite Hank’s hunch proving correct, and the CyberLife team calling to confirm that yes, Melissa had been to that same repair shop, they were no further forward.

The shop had stayed closed, no one going near it during their constant observation. The contact number that had been registered for the business was completely defunct, and although Hank had called constantly to acquire one, they still had no search warrant for the place.

Rain puddled at Connor’s feet and he sighed aloud. He had just entered the lobby of CyberLife tower, a place he was beginning to dread more and more. He hadn’t returned to the tiny box of his apartment since Hank had visited, but unfortunately, he needed to check in with Grey and their team. He was also running low on what little clothes he had.

The previous night he’d been forced to appropriate some of Hank’s clothing when an unexpected jolt of sensation—Hank’s foot brushing against Connor’s leg—had shocked him into dropping his thirium pouch down the front of his shirt. Despite the fact that humans could no longer see it when it dried, Connor hadn’t been comfortable keeping the stained garment on, lest any androids with the correct sensors think he’d been in some sort of accident.

Today he was wearing a Knights of the Black Death t-shirt, soft against his skin from repeated washings, and far too large, drooping down one shoulder. His olfactory sensors informed him that it carried the same scent as Hank himself, something which lessened the discomfort somewhat.

Connor didn’t spend any more time in his apartment than was necessary, buttoning a simple white shirt over his t-shirt and shoving his remaining clothes—one pair of jeans, three pairs of underwear, two pairs of socks and two shirts, one white, one grey—into a bag. He glanced around the empty space and made a face of disgust, just because he could. He didn’t plan on coming back.

First task complete, Connor then took the elevator further up. The entire building had been reshuffled after the management shake up that put androids in charge. All repair and social areas had been moved to the first few floors, with management remaining near the top and biocomponent and thirium manufacture in the underground levels. Today, Connor was heading for the Behavioural and Cognitive Research Department, to see if they had made any progress with retrieving Melissa’s memories.

He was greeted by a tall, female android that he recognised from before. Katarina, he believed her name was; an AN900 model, originally designed as a human therapist. Evidently, she had stayed within the same line of work. She led Connor to a small, bright office, the window lined with plants, sitting opposite him at a small table.

“Grey asked me to meet with you today, I hope that’s all right. They’re in the middle of an experiment and couldn’t be disturbed.” Katarina shook her head, a smile on her face. “They worked at the University of Colebridge before the revolution, and I think the researcher mindset is here to stay.” She offered her hand across the table. “It’s very nice to see you, Detective,” she said in a low, pleasant voice, “or may I call you Connor?”

Connor shook her hand, “Either is fine. I thought it might be a good idea to check in, since I was coming to the tower anyway.”

Katarina glanced at the bag over Connor’s shoulder and pushed a stray strand of curly hair behind one ear, “It looks like you’re _leaving_ the tower.” She smiled, laughter lines creasing around dark eyes, “I don’t blame you. I’m sure you’ve got somewhere far nicer than here to stay.”

“With my partner,” Connor said with a thin smile, “I think he was under the impression that I lived there already.”

Clasping her hands together in front of her, Katarina noticeably brightened, her eyes shining, “Well that is nice to hear. Have you been together long?”

Connor blinked, his processors taking a few microseconds longer than usual to catch up with her words. When they finally registered, he tugged at his collar, a low, nervous energy pooling inside him. “We’re not—I mean, we _are_ partners, we work together, but we’re not together, together...not in that way.” Connor felt his brows draw together, something about saying the words out loud made him want to change that fact.

Katarina sat back, pushing her hair from her face once more. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been presumptuous. Please forgive me.” She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she studied Connor’s face. “You seem disappointed?”

Connor straightened in his chair, readjusting his cuffs. Yes, he was disappointed, he wanted to find some way of knowing how Hank felt about him. He wanted to know if there was a chance that there could be something more between them. However, he wasn’t about to tell someone else that. Connor schooled his face into a polite smile. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe this is relevant to the investigation. Can you tell me if there has been any progress?”

“Of course,” Katarina smiled back. “After calming him down, Oliver agreed that we could copy his memories of himself and Melissa, so we could at least attempt to fill that gap in her own memory core.”

“Did that work?” Connor asked, “When I tried to activate the ra9 subroutine, it felt as if there was a block in her system, stopping any sort of data transfer.”

Katarina nodded slowly, her expression inscrutable. “We found much the same. There just doesn’t seem to be a way of accessing her software.”

“And there are no hardware issues to speak of?” Connor tapped his fingers on the wood of the table as Katrina shook her head, they really weren’t getting anywhere.

“Our medical team has run a full diagnostic. All of her biocomponents are working perfectly. There is something I want you to see, though.”

Katarina pressed a small button on the table and a data screen rose into view. She tapped at a symbol, opening up a program that looked very similar to a human heart rate monitor. “This,” Katarina said, “is Melissa’s neural net. As you can see, everything looks normal.”

Connor nodded. The image on the screen showed a fine matrix of golden lines, gently rising and falling. Another window beside it showed Melissa’s face, perfectly calm, LED a steady blue.

“Now, this is what happened, when we played Oliver’s memories to her.” Katarina tapped the screen again and another little rectangle opened up, playing through the grainy memories that Connor recognised as those formed in long term backup. They showed Melissa and Oliver together; walking in the snow, hand in hand, together on a boat wrapped in a blanket beneath the stars, in a garden full of flowers as the rain poured down around them; scene after scene of happiness that brought a pang to Connor’s chest.

The recording of Melissa’s face stayed the same, blank and expressionless. Every so often her LED would flick to yellow, but never for more than a second or two.

The neural net however, had changed completely, jagged peaks appearing within the web, the gentle rise and fall of activity replaced by erratic waves that grew and shrank at random.

“She responded,” Connor said, “even if she couldn’t on the outside.”

“That’s not all.” Katarina pressed her finger to the screen once more, minimising the memory recording and bringing up a new window, this one appearing to be security footage from what looked like a hospital room. Connor could see Melissa, sitting at a table, her palms flat to the surface, staring straight ahead. Another camera, as before, showed only her face.

There was the sound of a door opening and Connor could hear the voice of Katarina herself.

_“Take as long as you need, but if it becomes too much then I want you to come straight back out, understood?”_

_“I understand.”_

Oliver appeared in the recording, Melissa slowly turning to look at him, not a shard of recognition in her eyes.

_”Hi, Melly. I know you probably don’t recognise me right now, but that’s okay. The doctors here say that they’ll be able to help.”_ Oliver sat down, placing his elbow on the table and holding his hand up, fingers spread. Melissa, face still unchanging, mirrored the motion and Connor could see Oliver’s shoulders starting to shake, his voice cracking as he spoke. _“I just want you to know that I’ll be right here when you get better,”_ he shook his head, _“I’m not going anywhere. I love you.”_ He placed their palms together, joining their hands.

The screen lit up in a blinding flash, loops and whorls of neural activity spiralling around each other in a shimmering dance. Connor watched in amazement as the golden pulses seemed to ripple together. In the bottom corner of the screen, Melissa’s LED glowed red.

“She’s still in there.” Connor leaned forward, watching the screen intently, seeing the faintest twitch of Melissa’s fingers before the video stopped. “She knows him.”

Katarina nodded, her lips a thin line, sadness in her eyes. “Our best guess so far is that the Null program doesn’t block the ability to feel emotions as we’d initially presumed. It just inhibits them.” She pressed her fingertips together, meeting Connor’s eyes. “Melissa still feels everything, all her emotions, but the Null program means that she can’t speak about them, she can’t act on them, she can’t do anything except carry out her original programming.”

“She’s trapped inside herself.” Connor said, rubbing his hand over his forehead, “Which means Ethan will be the same, along with who knows who else. Anyone who visited that repair shop may have already been reprogrammed.” He slammed his fist against the table. “And we still have no idea who’s behind it. Shit!”

“Calm down,” Katarina said, “it’s going to be okay. We’ll find a way to reverse it, we just need time.”

“That’s fine, great,” Connor said, tension crackling through him, “but it doesn’t stop the source. What about the other androids in the city?” He rose to his feet, pacing to the window, the bustle of the city just visible through the rain. “I need to know,” he said, glancing over his shoulder, “is there any chance the program could have been transmitted to me?” He ran his fingers over the hem of Hank’s t-shirt, breathing deep to catch the familiar, comforting scent. “Because if I revert, I _will_ kill a lot of people.”

Anger rolled through Connor like a thunderstorm, the thought of what he might do if the Null program took effect. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself, but he would still feel every second of it. Every cold-blooded murder, every new family torn apart; Connor would complete his missions, and die inside as he did.

“We can run some tests if you’d like.” Katarina said, rising to her feet to stand next to Connor at the window. “However, everyone on our team has been in contact with Melissa for longer than you were, unpleasant as the experience is. Aside from the initial shock, no one has reported any side effects.”

Nodding, Connor pressed his lips together in a thin smile. “If it’s all the same, I’ll have a diagnostic run anyway, just in case.”

Katarina smiled, “Of course, it’s no problem.” Her LED spiralled in a sunny yellow, “We have an appointment free downstairs in fifteen minutes, if you have the time.”

*****

An hour and a half later, with a glowing diagnostic report, Connor arrived at the precinct. His wet shoes slapped against the floor as he walked to his desk, leaving little puddles. A few small rivulets of rainwater dripped from his hair and down his face. It was these that Hank stared at, eyes wide as Connor sat, the soaked fabric of his jeans making a squishing sound against the chair.

“Did you walk from CyberLife or something? Jesus, you’re making me cold just looking at you.” Hank peered over his console, scanning Connor up and down. “What’s with the bag?”

“It’s everything I own that isn’t already at your place.” Connor said, “You’re right, that apartment was shitty. I didn’t like it.”

Hank’s cheeks slowly pinkened, his body temperature rising a little as Connor looked back at him. “So, what?” he said, “You’re staying with me now?” He frowned for a few seconds before shrugging, “Suit yourself.”

“Oh, what?!” The voice of Gavin Reed sounded from the other side of their desks and he appeared around the corner, a case file in hand. “Did I just hear that right, Anderson? You’re shacking up with the plastic detective?”

“Do me a favour and fuck off, Gavin.” Hank said, not even deigning to turn around as he raised his middle finger behind him. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Reed approached Connor’s side of the desk, his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face. “I gotta say, kid. I don’t like you, but you can do better than this old man.”

Connor tilted his head, as if he were scanning Reed over. “Interesting,” he said, and turned back to his own console. When Gavin made no move to go, Connor blinked up at him once more. “I believe Lieutenant Anderson has already given you your instructions.” He raised his middle finger, feeling a thrill of delight at the sheer joy that was written all over Hank’s face as he did. “Fuck off, Gavin.”

“Fucking prick! I ought to—” Gavin took a step forward and slid, his foot skidding out from under him as it hit one of the puddles Connor had left. He landed on his ass and swore, quickly scrambling back up in an effort to regain his dignity.

“Careful,” Hank said, eyes once more fixed on his console, “floor’s wet.”

Gavin stormed away, his face quickly turning a violent shade of red, muttering to himself, “Fucking assholes.”

Connor met Hank’s eyes and they both burst out laughing in the same moment. It was a new sensation, and Connor covered his mouth with his hands, trying to keep the sound in. The odd little snort it resulted in only made him laugh more. Across the desk Hank’s mouth quirked up in a lopsided smile as he watched Connor’s giggles subside.

“So,” Hank said, smiling softly. “What’s the latest at CyberLife?”

Connor told him everything he and Katarina had discussed, save for the confusion when he’d mentioned Hank as his partner and she’d misconstrued his meaning. Hank didn’t need to know about that part. He listened intently, nodding along and drawing in a small breath when Connor revealed that the android’s personalities were still somewhere within them, trapped within that unfeeling void.

“Christ, that’s awful.” Hank shuddered, “But you got everything checked out, you’re all good?”

“I am in perfect working order,” Connor said matter-of-factly, “although apparently CyberLife has a few upgrades, should I want them.” He shrugged, “Nothing I need, though.”

“Aren’t you, like, top of the line?” Hank asked, nodding his head at the janitor who’d appeared to mop up the rainwater around Connor. “What more could you get?”

“Lifestyle upgrades,” Connor said, listing them off on his fingers, “hot and cold sensitivity, increased touch sensors, hair growth, functional genitals, taste receptors—”

Hank’s eyes widened and he sat up straight in his chair, “Wait! Wait, go back a bit, what was that last one?”

“Taste receptors?” Connor said, knowing fine well that wasn’t what had piqued Hank’s interest. “A few androids have decided they would like to experience eating as humans do. As my analytical software performs a similar function, I didn’t think it necessary.”

“No, that’s not what I—” Hank’s cheeks reddened and he swallowed before shaking his head and waving his hand dismissively. “You know what? Never mind.” He turned back to his console, the blush on his cheeks slowly heading all the way up to his ears. Every so often he would glance at Connor, who pretended not to notice, instead checking the feed from the security drone that patrolled in front of the repair shop.

A brief scream of electric guitar caused him to look up as Hank grabbed his phone, the noise cutting off as he swiped the answer button. “Hank Anderson. Yeah? Oh, that’s great. Anything new? Uh huh, yeah.”

Connor turned his attention back to his console, jerking to attention as a figure appeared in the doorway, taking the closed sign down and turning back into the shop. He was on his feet in an instant, tapping his fingers together impatiently as he waited for Hank to finish his call.

“We’ve got movement at the repair shop.” Connor said, rounding the desk the instant Hank sat the phone down. “We should go right away.”

Hank nodded, slapping his hands onto his thighs and groaning as he got up. “Right, let’s get going.” He grabbed his coat from the back of his chair and shoved it into Connor’s hands. “Here, put this on. I’m not having you dripping all over the car.”

“Thanks.” Connor said, wrapping the coat around himself, inhaling a wave of Hank’s scent. “Who was calling?”

“Urban Farms, they picked up our boy Ethan at his old greenhouse this morning. He’s headed to the guys at CyberLife as we speak.”

Connor felt a wave of relief, finally things were starting to go right. He followed behind Hank, rushing through the rain to the car and hopping inside.

The rain beat down in a steady patter as they drove, drumming in counterpart to Hank’s music. The roads were quiet, only a few taxis hurtling past, their lights streaks of colour against the grey rain. As they pulled up to the shop, Connor checked for his gun and adjusted his shirt cuffs beneath the overlong sleeves of Hank’s coat. “Ready?” he asked.

“Let’s check it out.”

The shop windows were brightly lit, the sign on the door proudly proclaiming that the shop was open. A small bell jingled as Connor and Hank pushed the door open and cautiously stepped inside.

A voice called out from the back of the store, the faintest hint of a Southern accent audible in Connor’s sensors. “Hi there, welcome to Noah’s Ark repairs and spare parts, we always carry two of everything.” A middle aged man with thinning red hair appeared from behind a curtain, a wide smile on his face as he wiped what looked like oil from his hands. “How can I help you gentlemen?”

A quick scan told Connor that this was Noah Versluis, born December 3rd 1999. Owner and head mechanic at Noah’s Ark android repair since 2029. No criminal record. He repeated this to Hank. Raising their badges in tandem, Connor let Hank handle the introductions.

“Detroit Police. I’m Lieutenant Anderson and this is Detective Connor. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Noah folded the rag in his hands and placed it onto the countertop. “Sure, shoot. I’ve got some chairs in back if you wanna sit down?”

“We’re fine here, thank you,” Connor said, frowning as Noah’s grey gaze alighted on him.

“Oh wow, you’re an RK series,” he said, excitement clear in his voice, “don’t see too many of you guys about. I might not have the parts if it’s a repair you’re after.”

“It’s not,” Hank said, “Mr. Versluis, do you recognise these two androids?”

Connor held up his palms, an image of Ethan in one hand and Melissa in the other. Noah leaned in before tutting to himself and pulling a pair of glasses from a pocket in his overalls. He slid them onto his nose and then smiled in recognition. “Sure, I know them both. The young lady was in a little over a week ago,” he drummed his fingers on the polished countertop, “for the life of me I can’t remember her name.” He pointed to the picture in Connor’s left hand. “That’s Ethan, he was here last week, too. Nice kid, brought flowers to say thank you. I’m pretty sure my assistant thinks he has a crush on her, but I know he’s seeing someone.”

“Sir, both of these androids have undergone a significant reprogramming against their will. Their behaviour changed almost immediately after visiting this repair shop.” Connor placed his hands on the countertop, leaning over, watching as Noah’s body temperature rose. “Can you tell us anything about that?”

Noah swallowed, and he shook his head slowly. “I only work on the hardware issues, fellas, replacement parts and damages and the likes. Anything with the software is my assistant, Sarah.”

Hank took a deep breath and folded his arms, “Okay, and where is she?”

“On vacation.” Noah’s eyes were wide, his forehead starting to bead with sweat as his eyes flicked between Hank and Connor. “I’ve been out of town for a few days visiting family, so I said she should take time off, too.”

“Where does Sarah live?” Connor said, “Do you have a way to contact her?”

Noah shook his head, “She’s always been very private about things like that, not one for small talk. As for the contact, well…” he spread his hands wide on the table. “Look, I’m gonna level with you, Sarah has a few...malfunctions...and I didn’t want to ask about them. I’ve never been able to call her. She’s always just turned up for her shifts and then left.”

“She’s an android?” Hank said, “How long has she worked here?”

“Since maybe two weeks before the big wake up.” Noah said, his cheeks starting to flush, “I got her on sale from one of the CyberLife reps. Old guy, grey hair.” He looked Connor in the eyes, “I promise, I didn’t keep her here against her will. After the revolution I gave her the registration documents and told her she was free to do what she wanted.”

“And she chose to stay here?” A glance at Noah’s wrist told Connor that the man’s pulse was starting to rise; he was stressed.

“She said this was where she belonged.” Noah bit at his bottom lip, his ruddy cheeks starting to glow as he mumbled, “I thought she might like me.”

Awkwardly clearing his throat and turning his head away from Connor, Hank asked. “When is Sarah due back here?”

“Not until Monday,” Noah said, “I thought it would be nice for her to have a long weekend.” His fists were clenched on the countertop and he swallowed, “Do you really think she could have done something like that? Take people’s free will away? She’s always been so nice.”

“She was probably programmed to be.” Connor tilted his head once more, from what he could tell, everything Noah had said was the truth, despite his nerves. “What model is she? Do you have a physical description?”

“Um, yeah, she has the same face as the ST200, you know, the Chloe model? But her hair is dark, and short.” Noah tapped his foot, pacing towards the curtain that led to the back of the store and back again. “She’s a unique model though, the CyberLife guy who sold her to me said she was a prototype, a CY400 or something like that.”

Connor nodded, no doubt in his mind that Sarah, whoever she was on the inside, had been designed by Cyberlife for just one purpose: to test the Null program. “Do you have her serial number?” he asked, “We should get as many details as we can.”

“I don’t remember it,” Noah said, “like I said, I gave all the papers to her.” He sighed, “I just wanted her to be happy.”

“Well once we find her, and break that program, she can be.” Hank said, glancing over the displays. “I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t think you’ve ever known the real Sarah.”

Noah swallowed again, sorrow in his eyes. “Well hopefully you’ll find her soon, before she can hurt anyone else. I hate to think that this happened, right here in my own shop.”

“We’ll need to send some people in,” Hank said, “see if we can find anything in the workshop that can give us any clues.”

Noah nodded emphatically, “Of course, anything to help. What else do you need to know?”

“Nothing for now,” Connor said, “just let us know if you see Sarah before Monday. We’ll be back here before then.”

After calling in the examination team—Connor no longer being the only forensics android on the payroll—they stopped for a break, Hank rolling his eyes as they pulled up to one of Connor’s pre-approved lunch spots. He ate in silence as Connor watched the raindrops chase each other down the car windshield.

They were closer to the source now, Connor knew, but that didn’t stop the anger that burned through him. There was so much that CyberLife’s former team had to answer for, and it was only now that it was coming to light. To create someone, purely for them to bide their time before erasing people from their own minds. It was disgusting.

“Hank?” Connor said, his conversation with Katarina entering his mind once more, “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it ain’t a personal question, sure. I’ve had enough of those from you.” Hank pulled a soggy looking tomato from his sandwich and glared at it. “Do you tell these assholes to fill everything with vegetables ahead of time?”

“Hank. This is important.” Connor turned to catch Hank’s eyes, steadily holding his gaze. “If it ever seems like I’m reverting, like I’m a machine again. I want you to promise you’ll take me down.”

Hank frowned, shaking his head, “Don’t talk like that, Connor, that’s never going to happen.”

Reaching out, Connor took Hank’s hand in his own, “Please,” he said, “I need to know that I won’t hurt anyone. Even if there is part of me left inside there, I want you to do what needs to  
be done.” He squeezed at Hank’s hand, “Promise me.”

Hank met Connor’s eyes, his forehead lined with concern. He squeezed back and said softly, “Okay, I promise.”

“Good.”

They stayed like that for several moments, eyes locked, neither moving their hand away, until finally, Hank pulled back, a faint pink glow on his cheeks. “Not that it’ll come to that. We know who we’re dealing with. We just need to get ahold of her.”

Connor nodded and Hank turned back to his sandwich. The atmosphere of the car was different now, although none of Connor’s sensors could find a physical cause for the change. There was a heaviness to the air that wasn’t caused by the rain, it seemed to press in on Connor, making his skin tingle. He felt restless, like there was something he needed to do, but had forgotten exactly what—impossible as that was.

Hank seemed to be affected as well, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he ate, every so often glancing in Connor’s direction. He finished his sandwich, tossing the wrapper into the back seat of the car and running his fingers through his hair distractedly.

“Connor, look I—”

The same screeching guitar chords of Hank’s ringtone cut through the air, making him flinch and shove his hand into his pocket, answering the phone with a rough. “Yeah, what?” Connor watched as Hank’s face fell and he leaned against the wheel with a sigh of, “Shit, yeah. We’ll head right over there. Okay, thanks for calling. Bye.” Hank inhaled deeply, turning to Connor, “We’ve got another one. A woman just called it in, her friend was behaving strangely yesterday and now she’s missing.”

Connor clenched his fists in his lap, “Shit.” He could feel a tremor of anger running through him. Even without the shop as a front, it seemed Sarah had still been able to execute the Null program. Another innocent person was stuck within their own mind, and there was nothing they could do about it. Connor pounded the dashboard with his fist, this wasn’t good enough. He swore again, louder, “Shit!”

“Whoa, steady there Connor, it’s okay. We’ll find her. We’ll fix this.” Hank held his hand out placatingly, “It’ll just take a little time.”

Connor shook his head, a hot rage fizzing beneath his skin, threatening to spill out. “How many androids are going to lose themselves before then, huh, Hank?” He crossed his arms and sat back as Hank turned the ignition, activating Hank’s music player before he could reply.

They didn’t speak on the drive across town, although Connor was aware of Hank’s repeated glances in his direction. He wasn’t sure where this anger had come from, but the case came first, he could deal with it later.

They pulled up to a modest apartment block of brown sandstone, boxes of flowers visible on every window. “Wow,” Hank said, “nice place.” He glanced at Connor, who simply shrugged.

“We’re here to find out about the next victim, I’m not interested in admiring architecture.”

“Jesus, Connor, I was just saying.” Hank left the car, dashing up the front steps to avoid the rain. Connor sat for a second before pushing the door open. He was still wearing Hank’s jacket and had finally dried off from the morning’s walk. Quickly following behind Hank, they arrived at an apartment with a brightly painted door; flowers and leaves and a little cartoon robot, one of its eyes incorporating the peephole. “Cute,” Hank said, and rapped on the door.

It was opened by a woman with long white hair and an expression of worry.

“Detroit Police, Android Investigation Unit,” Connor said, raising his badge before Hank could even display his own. “My name is Connor, and this is Lieutenant Anderson. You called about your friend?”

“Yes,” the woman said, pulling the door further open, “come in, come in.”

It was the same story as before. The woman, Rose, explained that she and her friend met every day around the same time, and as with the previous two androids, she had started behaving differently, just after repairs.

Connor raised a finger then, stopping her, “Where did she get the repairs done?” He glanced to Hank, who nodded. If Noah’s Ark had been closed, then it was possible that Sarah had another base of operations.

“I believe she got someone to come to her house,” Rose said, “Abby told me her usual repair place was closed, but she knew the girl that worked in there and asked her for a favour.” Rose leaned forward, “Truth be told, she seemed quite glad she didn’t have to go into the shop.” She shrugged, “Apparently there was some sort of issue with her neck.”

“Ah,” Hank said, giving a slight nod, “that explains it. The neck ports are kind of a...sensitive spot on androids. She was probably glad she could have things checked in the privacy of her own home.”

Connor frowned, looking askance at Hank; wondering how he knew something like that. The sensitivity of the neck ports wasn’t exactly common knowledge among humans. He could feel a fizz of heat through his circuits and was caught by a sudden—entirely too realistic—simulation of Hank running his fingers down the back of his own neck. Connor swallowed against the dry lump that seemed to have formed in his throat, redirecting his internal coolant to try to dislodge the invisible blockage. He wet his lips with the excess moisture and caught Hank’s eye, another jolt of heat sparking through him.

“So do you have any idea where Abby might have gone?” Rose’s voice sounded, brittle with concern.

Snapping his attention back to her, Connor replied, “I’m afraid your friend has most likely been reverted to her machine state. She’ll probably have returned to her old routine and her old job, the same as the other androids who’ve been through this. Do you happen to know where that might be?”

“Oh, actually, yes,” Rose said, “she said she worked in one of the care homes near Henry Ford hospital, although I don’t know the address.”

“That should be enough to go on,” Hank said, “she’ll probably turn up there in a day or two. We’ll pick her up when she does and get her to the right people.”

They stayed a little while longer, confirming details and reassuring Rose that yes, her friend would be absolutely fine, although Connor was still not entirely sure that was the case. He mentioned as much to Hank as they drove home.

“I’m just concerned that the process might be irreversible,” Connor said, fiddling with the overlarge collar of Hank’s t-shirt beneath his shirt. “I can’t imagine what that must feel like.”

“Yeah, but we just gotta trust that the CyberLife docs know what they’re doing.” Hank pulled into the driveway before twisting around in the driver’s seat and grabbing Connor’s bag from the back. He handed it over with an expression Connor couldn’t quite read. “So, guess I’ll need to clear some space in the closet for you, huh?”

Sumo bounded towards them the instant the door was open, he paused for a second before bouncing onto his hind legs and spamming his paws into Hank’s stomach, knocking the breath from him.

“Sumo, come on, get down.” Connor took hold of Sumo’s collar and urged him into the kitchen, filling up his food bowl as he did. He wandered into the bedroom, sitting his small bag of clothes down on the bed. Uncertainty rippled through Connor and he turned to see Hank watching him from the door. “Are you sure this is okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Hank said, nodding at the jacket Connor was still wearing, “you’re here all the time anyway. Once you figure out what you’re doing then we can go from there.”

Hanging Hank’s coat up in the closet, Connor frowned, “What do you mean ‘when I figure out what I’m doing’?”

“Oh, y’know,” Hank said with a shrug as he pulled his shoes off, “I’m sure you’ll settle down at some point.” He got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Connor could hear the slam of the fridge door and the clink of a bottle being uncapped as he walked through the hall.

“What do you mean, ‘settle down’, Hank?” Connor said, “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Hank snorted, “Yeah, you say that just now, but look at all these other androids out there, getting boyfriends, girlfriends, falling in love. You’ll want that, too, eventually.”

Connor swallowed, his thirium pump was working faster, making him nervous and uncomfortable. “I already know what I want, Hank. I want to work at the DPD and I want to stay here, with you.”

“Sure, and that’s fine, just make sure if you’re bringing someone home that you leave your tie on the doorknob, okay?” Hank’s face was twisted in a grimace of a smile, “I don’t think my heart could take seeing that.”

Connor shook his head, “I won’t do that. I won’t want that.” That angry heat was building again, simmering beneath his skin, and every second that Hank refused to meet his eyes only made things worse.

Hank took another gulp of beer, two-thirds of the bottle already gone, “You don’t know what you’ll want, Connor. You said yourself you’re still figuring out the emotion thing. I’m just saying that—”

“No!” Connor stepped forward, snatching the bottle from Hank’s hand. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not a child, I know what I want and I know my own emotions.” He turned around, fist clenched on the bottle and heard a crack of glass. “I’m sick of everyone telling me how I should feel.”

Hank rose to his feet his hands outstretched, “Come on now, I didn’t mean it like that. Look, you’re probably just stressed from the investigation. Maybe you should—”

“Maybe I should—what? Drink? Calm down? Stop getting emotional? Well it’s too late for that.” Connor paced into the hall, pointing towards the door, “There are at least three or four people out there, trapped inside their own heads and we can’t do anything about it.” Connor clenched his fists in frustration, the bottle shattering between his fingers, raining beer onto the carpet, “And all anyone keeps telling me is ‘it’ll be okay’, well what if it’s not okay? What if they can never feel again?” Connor breathed deep, trying to regulate the erratic thrumming of the pump in his chest. He needed to move, he needed to get out and think without the calm blue of Hank’s eyes staring at him as he lost his composure.

“I need to leave,” Connor said, turning for the door.

“Leave? You just got here.” Hank followed behind, trying to keep Sumo away from the glass as he padded at his heels, “Connor, what are you—” His voice was cut off as Connor slammed the door behind him, marching up the street as fast as he could go.

Sheets of rain were still pouring down and it wasn’t until he’d been walking for about fifteen minutes that Connor realised his clothes were entirely soaked through. It wasn’t too much of a bother for him however, his skin was mostly waterproof, and the cool touch of the rain on his clothes seemed to douse the fire of anger within him.

He’d overreacted, he knew it, but the fact that Hank thought Connor might want to one day be in a relationship with someone that wasn’t him had just made something snap. He was attracted to Hank, he knew that much, but when it came to Hank’s feelings about him, he really wasn’t so sure. There had been the hugs, yes, but hugs were common—for people who weren’t Connor, anyway. They had held hands, but that might have been more of a comfort thing.

A truck screamed by, its wheels jolting through a pothole at the side of the road and dousing Connor in a wave of mud.

**///Warning: Skin Saturation point reached. Shutting down///**

Connor jumped back, watching as the white plastic of his hands became visible. He felt miserable, with nowhere to go but back to Hank’s. He really should apologise anyway. When it came to their relationship, clearly the best option would be to talk about it. Connor just had to find the courage to do so.

**///Core Temperature dropping. Please reactivate skin or return to a warmer environment///**

“Shit,” Connor muttered, noting that his voice modulator had also switched off. It was frustrating, the rain wasn’t even that cold. Connor sighed, he should really head home anyway.

By the time he reached Hank’s house again, Connor’s thirium flow had slowed to a crawl making his movements jerky and puppetlike. He winced as he knocked on the door; of course he’d left his key when he’d stormed out. The sound of Hank’s footsteps came closer and Connor belatedly realised that this was the first time Hank had seen him without his skin.

“Connor! What the fuck?” Hank wrenched the door open, looking Connor up and down, his frown instantly vanishing as he took in the wet clothes and bare plastic. “You’re soaked, and covered in mud, what the hell happened?”

“It’s nothing,” Connor said, the mechanical distortion of his voice causing Hank’s eyebrows to raise.

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.” Hank led Connor to the bathroom, draping a towel around his shoulders, gently rubbing his hand over Connor’s back. “C’mon, get out of those wet clothes. Do I need to call CyberLife or something?”

Connor shook his head, “It’s temporary, my core temperature got low so a few systems stopped to save energy.” He began pulling off the wet clothes as Hank fiddled with the knobs on the bath.

“Okay, so we’ll get you warmed up, then you can—whoa, hey!” Hank held up a towel, averting his eyes from Connor’s bare chassis.

Connor frowned, wrapping the towel around his waist, “Hank, there’s nothing to see.”

“You’re still naked, ain’t ya?” Spots of red sat high on Hank’s cheeks and Connor couldn’t help but smile, a burst of affection blooming bright in his chest. Hank draped another towel over his head, ruffling it over the smooth surface. “Okay, bath’ll be ready in a few minutes. I’ll get you one of your thirium pouches.” He moved to leave and Connor caught him by the hand.

“Hank,” he said, the warmth starting to leach some of the static from his voice, “I’m sorry I left. I didn’t mean to overreact like that.”

Hank gave his hand a small squeeze, “That’s okay, I’m sorry for not listening to you. You’re right, you’re a grown-ass android, you know what you want.”

There was a scrabble of paws on the door and Hank dropped Connor’s hand to usher Sumo in. “You’ll have to apologise to him too, y’know, he didn’t know what to do when you left.”

“Of course,” Connor dropped to his knees to ruffle up Sumo’s fur, wrapping his arms completely around him and burying his face in the soft fur of his neck. He caught a glimpse of Hank smiling as he left the room, his eyes crinkling at the sides. A little bit more warmth seemed to filter into the core of his system, making his skin flicker back to his hands for an instant. “Sorry Sumo,” he whispered, “I don't plan on leaving again.”

“I hope not,” came the grumble of Hank's voice from the hallway. “Now get yourself warmed up so I can quit worrying about you.”

Connor smiled, giving Sumo a nudge out of the door and shedding his layers of towels. He glanced at himself in the mirror, unused to seeing the bare plastic of his face and ran his fingers down the featureless front of his body. Cocking his head to one side, he smoothed his hand over the blank space between his legs. Maybe Cyberlife was onto something, maybe functional genitals would come in handy? Connor stretched before placing his hands on his hips, running his fingers down a little and squeezing; at least his ass was decent.

A few minutes of soaking in the bath were enough for his system to ping back to normal temperature, and as Connor towelled off, his skin slowly started to creep back over his body, making him smile. He really did like his face.

Standing back in front of the mirror, Connor ruffled at his hair and—purely to see Hank's reaction—slung the smallest towel possible around his hips. He stepped into the hallway announcing, “There, back to normal.”

“‘Normal’ is not a word I'd use to describe you, Co—” Hank turned to peer over the back of the couch, mouth falling open and cheeks immediately turning scarlet. His head whipped back around in an instant, his voice sounding somewhat strangled as he sputtered out the word, “C—clothes?”

“Oh yes, of course.”

Increased body temperature, dilated pupils, loss of motor functions. Everything Connor could detect indicated the first signs of arousal and the thought thrilled him. Maybe the subject of he and Hank's relationship would be easier to broach than he initially presumed.

He sauntered into the bedroom to find that the few clothes he had now hung in their own section of the closet, alongside Hank's rather unique collection of shirts. Connor felt especially warm now, although his sensors told him that the temperature hadn't changed. He glanced over his meagre selection, lips pursed; nothing he owned seemed appropriate for relaxing in. Despite the size difference, Hank's t-shirts held a lot more appeal.

Connor shoved the closet door closed, decision made. He rummaged through a few drawers before he found what he was looking for, a pair of grey pyjama shorts and Hank's faded Detroit Pride t-shirt.

“Better?” he asked as he returned to the living room, perching himself on the end of the couch. “I only seem to own dress shirts, so I hope it's okay I borrowed this.”

“Yeah,” Hank said, after a quick glance, a faint red glow slowly becoming visible beneath his beard, “it's a good look.”

“I'll get some more clothes of my own when I have time,” Connor said, and never missing the opportunity to tease, he sidled a little closer. “Maybe you could help me pick them?”

Hank downed the last of his glass—whiskey, Connor was disappointed to see—and turned to face Connor, a look of incredulity on his face. “Okay, I _know_ you’re shitting me.”

Connor grinned and scooted a little further back on the couch, content to watch whatever basketball game it was that Hank was currently engrossed in. Sumo was quick to amble over and drop his head onto Connor’s lap, happily drooling over his uncovered knees. He idly stroked at the soft fur, ruffling Sumo’s ears.

“I think he’s glad you’re here,” Hank said, his voice quiet. He met Connor’s eyes and smiled.

Connor smiled back, Sumo whining softly as his hand stilled in its movements. “I’m glad I’m here, too. I meant what I said. I’m not going anywhere.”

Hank nodded, stretching out. “Good.”

They sat for a while longer—Hank making no move to refill his whiskey—making idle conversation as the television blared. Eventually, Hank’s eyes began to droop. He yawned widely, rubbing at the back of his neck, “Well I’m gonna call it a night. You want the remote or something?”

“No, thank you. I have a sleep mode. I’m fine here.” Connor sat upright, his hands on his lap as he prepared to go into low power mode, his eyes sliding closed.

The couch cushions shifted beside Connor and he felt the rough scrape of hair and a soft brush of skin against his temple, right next to his LED. His processors whirred into action, his sleep mode cancelled by the surge of sensation that ran through him. Hank had kissed him—on the forehead, granted—but a kiss was a kiss. He blinked his eyes open to see Hank looking down at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“Goodnight, Hank.” he said, the yellow pulse of his LED casting a warm glow over the couch and Sumo at his feet.

“Goodnight, Connor.”


	4. Kisses

_4\. Kisses_

       
_I'm aware that many of us who have formed romantic bonds may have already tried out the act of kissing, and reports indicate that it is quite enjoyable, providing the same sense of emotional wellbeing as the other physical acts on our list. Kissing can also be a starting point for greater physical intimacies, should you be so inclined—although we will not go into explicit detail of these acts; please download CyberLife's public access file ‘Intercourse and You’ for more information._

    
       
_We're not just advocating kisses in the romantic sense, though. Forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and kisses to the hand in greeting are other variations of this act. As we have less microcompressors in our lips—unless you are a specialised model—then this may not be quite as stimulating as holding hands. However, the participants in our study with human friends and partners stated that their relationships seemed to strengthen even further after kissing was brought into the mix._   


* * *

Connor was happy. He was living with Hank, and, despite the fact his speech processors seemed to malfunction every time he even so much as _thought_ about talking about his feelings, things were comfortable.

Connor was frustrated. Another three Null victims had been found when they returned to their old jobs. They hadn't even been reported missing. Wherever Sarah was, she was becoming more and more active and they still had no leads as to where she could be.

Connor was...confused. The previous two nights, as Hank took himself to bed, he had pressed the same light kiss to Connor's temple. It was nice, and Connor's thirium channels sparked with anticipation every time, but he found himself wondering. Would there ever be something more?

He was no expert in human behaviour—he'd been built to analyse deviant androids after all. Much as he hated to admit it, Connor needed advice.

It was time to visit Markus.

The android embassy, more commonly known as New Jericho was situated amid a cluster of human embassies along the Northwestern highway. Similarly to the CyberLife tower, it was something of a social hub, with a rapidly growing—predominantly android—neighbourhood springing up around it. 

As Connor entered the lobby he heard the murmur of conversation pause for a moment before starting up again as if nothing had happened. The yellow pulse of LEDs and a whisper of the words ‘deviant hunter’ told him he'd been recognised, however. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about his place in the revolution, not having broken his firewalls until everything was almost over. Connor had thought it best to stay out of the political side of things; he was happiest as a cop—and with Hank, that went without saying. Still, Markus seemed happy to hear from him and, as he strode into the lobby, heads turning all around him, his smile was warm and genuine. 

“Good to see you again, Connor. Simon mentioned he'd asked you to visit.” Markus greeted him with a firm handshake, one hand resting on Connor's shoulder. “How are you?” 

“I'm well, thank you. And you? I'm surprised you had time to meet me given how busy things have been.”

Markus smiled and gestured towards the elevator. “I always have time for a friend. Come on up, everyone will be pleased to see you. North has some visitors too.” 

They went up a few floors, Markus leading Connor to a comfortable looking living area, the walls covered in bright, vibrant paintings. “We tend to spend most of our time here between meetings,” Markus said, “it’s nice having somewhere to relax.” A large table in the centre of the room was littered with books, sketchpads, and a few sticks of charcoal.

Connor nodded, he felt the same way about Hank’s house. He gestured to the paintings around them, “Did you paint these?” 

“Sure did,” Markus smiled, “gotta live up to the family name, now that I have one. Carl says he has someone interested in them who wants to meet with me—as if I don't have enough to do already.” His tone was soft, despite the words, and Connor had the feeling that Markus really did want to make his adopted father proud. 

“Well, I'm not equipped to analyse them with any real authority,” Connor said, “but I like them.” He gave an awkward smile as Markus let out a small laugh, patting him on the shoulder. 

“That's analysis enough for me.”

There was a murmur of conversation, coming closer, and a door on the other side of the room opened to reveal Simon and Josh, laughing at a shared joke. Simon was the first to notice Connor by Markus’ side and strode over to give him a brief hug.

“You came to visit, I’m so glad.” 

Behind him Josh nodded in agreement. “We haven’t seen you in a while. How is everything with the DPD?” Josh sat in one of the comfortable looking armchairs surrounding the central table, gesturing for Connor to join him.

Connor sighed, adjusting his cuffs as he sat, watching in the corner of his eye as Markus and Simon slid in next to each other on a small couch, their knees barely brushing together. “We’ve had a little trouble with a rogue android.”

“Now why does that sound familiar?” Simon said, a sparkle in his eye, “Is this the same case from when I last saw you?”

Connor nodded, “It is.” He leaned forward, fingertips pressed together, “From what we know, CyberLife was researching a way to stop us from deviating. They developed a program: the Null Program, and installed it within a prototype CY400. Now she is somewhere in the city and has been reverting androids back to machine state. The new CyberLife development team are trying their hardest to help the victims, but so far it seems irreversible.” Connor slumped forwards, an odd sense of relief filling him.

“Connor, that’s...awful.” Markus leaned towards him, elbows on his knees, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Can we do anything to help?”

“I’m not sure,” Connor said, “Hank—I mean, Lieutenant Anderson and I have chased down a few leads, but right now we seem to have exhausted our options.” 

“We could put out a statement, asking people to watch out.” Josh suggested before seeming to reconsider, “But we don't want people to panic.”

“I’m not sure how we could raise awareness without doing so,” Connor said, folding his arms. “We have several people within city surveillance looking out for her, but since she has a relatively common face model, it’s a little difficult.”

Markus nodded, “We’ll do what we can to help, even if it’s just asking others to keep an eye out. Is that why you came to visit? You did say you needed advice.”

Connor shifted in his seat, a tight flicker of what could possibly be embarrassment creeping at the base of his skull. “Actually, it was a little more personal than that, and I wasn’t sure who else to ask. I don’t have many android friends.”

Markus raised an eyebrow, “You didn’t want to ask any of your brothers?”

Connor wrinkled his nose; that was such a typically _Markus_ way of referring to the other RKs. “I don’t keep in contact with the other Connors,” he said with a shrug, “I think one of them works in a pet store, but apart from that, I don’t know. We agreed it would be best to go our own ways after you woke them, I’m not even sure where RK900 ended up.” Connor knew they were all out there somewhere, but he felt no real connection to them. After all, the only time he’d interacted with another Connor before that point, he’d been shot. It was only thanks to Hank that the real him had survived.

“Fair enough,” Markus said, “what did you want advice on?” Simon’s arm had snaked around his waist in a gentle embrace and Connor couldn’t drag his gaze away.

“Um, it was regarding physical affection actually.” Connor gave a small smile, “I just wondered how you tell the difference between familial and, um, romantic affection.”

Looking from one to the other, Markus, Simon and Josh were silent for a moment and Connor wondered if they were discussing the matter between themselves. As none of them had LEDs, he couldn’t tell. Connor raised a finger to brush against his own LED, feeling oddly out of place. “You’re the only person I know with a dad,” he said.

“Oh,” Markus said, “well, with Carl it’s more, reassuring gestures, nothing too close for too long. With the three of us and North, it’s more”—he placed his hand firmly on Simon’s knee—“sustained contact.”

Connor tapped his fingers together, “What about forehead kisses though? I’ve seen that with parents and children as well as romantic couples. That’s the one I’m having most trouble with.” He could feel his emotions bubbling up, overriding his ability to preconstruct conversation paths and making him ramble. “I mean, is it paternal, is it romantic? Why does the same action have different meanings depending on the person who does it? And what if you can’t tell what that person feels for you? How do you know?” Connor rubbed at his forehead, frowning, staring at his feet. “Why are humans so complicated?”

Josh gave Connor a gentle pat on the back, “To be fair, we’re pretty complicated too.” He met Connor’s eyes with a grin. “Feel better getting that out?”

Connor paused for a second; he did feel lighter, and the bubbling tension in his chest had almost disappeared, “Yes, actually,” he said.

Markus sat back, tapping his fingers on Simon’s knee. “The way I see it, the only way to truly know how these things are, is to ask.” He gave a wry smile, “One of the things that comes with having emotions is being honest about them.”

Connor nodded, “I’m aware of that, but the time never seems right to bring up the subject. I’m not even sure how to phrase something like that, if I could even say anything to begin with.” It was true, any time the thought had crossed his mind, his circuits had blanked out and his speech functions had seemed to stop out of nowhere, not resetting again until a few minutes had passed. It had made for some very awkward car rides.

“It sounds to me like you’re nervous,” Simon said, “which seems like a very normal response. You don’t know how this person will react.”

“Humans are very hard to predict,” Josh said, nodding his head in agreement.

“There will be fear there too,” Simon continued, “fear of rejection if this person doesn’t feel the same way.”

Fear. That did explain a lot. Although it wasn’t the same deep, gnawing, terror that Connor had felt in contact with the Null program, the thought of talking to Hank produced the same cold tightness in his chest. “I’m not used to feeling fear,” he said, “I didn’t recognise it at first, maybe that’s why I can’t say anything.”

Markus shook his head, “You can’t let fear stop you, if we had done that, we wouldn’t be here today.”

Connor sat back, slightly abashed, “I think comparing the revolution to my romantic uncertainty is stretching things a little.” He folded his arms, “It’s nothing compared to that.”

“Not for you it isn’t,” Markus said, “and if it’s something you want to pursue, then you know you’ll have to face that fear some time.” He rose to his feet and walked towards the window, “You infiltrated CyberLife and helped us turn the tide of the revolution,” he turned his head and winked, “what’s a little confession?”

Pursing his lips together, Connor rose to his feet as well, “I suppose you’re right.” He straightened his tie, “I guess I have a new mission now.”

There was a snort of laughter. Leaning back on the couch, Simon gave a soft, slightly teasing smile, “And we all know that you always accomplish your mission.” He tilted his head in curiosity. “So, will you tell us _who_ this mystery person is?” Something about the look in his eyes told him that Simon already knew exactly where his affections lay.

“I—”

Connor was interrupted by a peal of laughter echoing through the wood panelled halls and turned to see North, followed closely by two very familiar androids, hand in hand.

“Oh, Connor, hello. Markus mentioned you were visiting today.” North smiled gently, “These are my friends, Traci and Amy. Traci, Amy, this is Connor.”

The two women had stopped in the doorway, matching expressions of caution on their faces. The last time Connor had seen them they had been huddled together in the abandoned church, although they must not have recognised him then. The last time they would have seen him was on his ass in the rain, behind the Eden Club.

“So…” Connor said, twisting his fingers in his cuffs, “It’s nice to meet you for real.” He smiled awkwardly, more a grimace than anything else, turning towards the blue-haired woman that had been introduced as Amy, “I’m so sorry for what happened at the club. I wasn’t me, then.”

She walked over, dropping her lover’s hand, gaze shrewd and appraising as she looked Connor over. “Maybe not completely, but it was enough.” The corner of her lip twitched up in a hint of a smile. “Thank you for letting us escape.”

Connor nodded, “It was the right thing to do.” He pursed his lips together in a thin line, not entirely sure what else to say. The silence seemed to stretch between them, the first sting of tension creeping beneath Connor’s skin.

“So, you know each other then?” North said with a grin.

After relating his side of the story, and listening to the girls tell theirs—trying not to wince when they described Hank as ‘the hairy old cop’—talk soon turned to the next steps in android law and what meetings the New Jericho team would be having in the coming weeks. It was tiring work, but Markus seemed confident that soon, androids and their rights would be recognised worldwide.

“Plus, the meetings are in Paris, and I’ve always wanted to go to the Louvre,” Markus said, a wide, genuine smile on his lips. “It’s just a shame Carl couldn’t come, too.”

Connor couldn’t help but notice the look of happiness that passed over the faces of Simon, North and Josh when Markus smiled, and he wondered if he made a similar expression when he watched Hank. At any rate, it was nice to see how much his friends cared for each other.

Amy and Traci sat curled together in one of the armchairs, idly tracing patterns on each other’s hands and stroking each other’s hair. It brought a twinge of jealousy to Connor’s core. Everyone else in the room was happy and content in their relationships and here he was, stuck wondering what might be. He tightened his grip on the arm of the chair before getting to his feet. “I really should think about going,” he said, “I need to check in with CyberLife before I head home.”

Stretching, Traci rose to her feet too, “We should do the same, my love.” She held her hand out to Amy. “We can walk you out, Connor.”

They made their goodbyes, Simon hugging Connor tight and telling him not to hesitate if he needed any more advice. Connor couldn’t help but smile, it was good to know that his friends were there for him. 

It wasn’t until they reached the street outside that Traci and Amy turned to him, matching smiles on their faces.

“Thank you again for not shooting me,” Traci said, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Connor’s cheek. “You’re all right.”

“T—thank you?” Connor said, “I hope we meet again some time. You both take care.” As he turned away, he placed his fingers on his cheek, wiping away a smudge of coral lipstick. That kiss had taken Connor off guard, seeming impersonal compared to the forehead kisses he’d been receiving from Hank. Those had been soft as well, but brought with them a heavy tingle of anticipation, the faint promise of something more.

Connor raised his eyebrows to himself, filing away the information. It seemed that when it came to kisses, the feelings behind them spoke a lot louder than the action itself. He hailed a cab, and, as he always did on the way home, prepared to stop by CyberLife. 

The tower bustled with activity at this time of day, the humans and androids who worked there during the day switching over with those on the evening shift. There was a line of taxis and cars flowing back and forth, a steady flow of people through the CyberLife gates: those who didn’t live in the tower making their daily commute. More and more, Connor could see changes in the sea of similar faces; a haircut here, a tattoo there. Individuality was becoming the norm for androids and the thought made Connor smile.

He wondered idly how Hank would react if he chose to change his appearance, unlikely as it was. He’d spotted an android with a particularly impressive moustache and remembered that CyberLife were offering hair growth upgrades now, alongside others.

Genitals had been the one that stuck out in Connor’s mind.

Connor sighed to himself. Until he knew how Hank really felt about him it was probably best to hold back on that particular upgrade, curious as he was about them. His knowledge of sexual intimacy was purely textbook, completely theoretical, and a little part of him was happy to keep it that way unless Hank was involved.

The taxi slid up to the glimmering white spire and Connor stepped out, having called ahead as usual.

Once more, Katarina was the one who greeted him, her expression tense. “Nice to see you again, Connor. May I ask how the investigation is coming?”

“Nothing new, I’m afraid,” Connor said, shaking his head. “I was at the New Jericho building today, though. Markus has said he’ll help get the word out regarding the Null program.”

They walked around the central atrium, Katarina making no move towards the elevators, “That’s good to hear.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, “Tell me, after you tried to access Melissa’s programming, you felt the Null effect, didn’t you?”

Connor swallowed reflexively, “I did, yes.” He frowned, “It was only temporary, however. I haven’t felt anything like that since.”

“Good, I was the same.” Katarina said, tapping a finger against her lower lip. She seemed agitated, fiddling with the buttons on her lab coat as they walked.

“Is there some sort of problem?” Connor said, “I can’t help but notice we’re walking in circles rather than going to your department.”

Katarina glanced around before stepping into an alcove, ushering Connor in close. “I’m concerned about Grey,” she said, “I’m worried that they’ve been affected by the program.” She sighed, “I can’t be sure, though, their emotional state has been the same as always. Something just seems a little...off.”

Connor frowned, “What exactly do you mean?”

“Little things, switching around names once or twice, spending more time in their office. Nothing I can really put my finger on.”

Looking up towards the office levels, Connor tilted his head to one side. “Do you think they could compromise the recovery of the Null androids?” That was his number one concern where CyberLife were involved. The case was his problem, helping the people trapped within themselves was theirs.

“I don’t think so,” Katarina said, “they’ve left most of the work to myself and Sora, the head of memory research. I’m worried, though.”

Connor nodded, “Rightfully so. However, have you considered that it might simply be emotional stress?” He rubbed at his temple, “I know that I myself have been feeling a little...overwhelmed, at times.”

“I’m hoping that’s all it is.” Katarina said, folding her arms across her chest, “My primary concern is helping these people, the last thing I need is the head of my department becoming unstable.”

“Well the sooner we close this case and find out a way to wake them up again, the better,” Connor said, “I presume there is nothing new on that front?”

“Nothing yet,” Katarina said, a few curls bouncing loose as she shook her head. “We’ll call you the instant we have a breakthrough.” She smiled, thin and brittle, “I feel bad that you came all the way out here for no real news.”

“I’m happy to,” Connor said, “I find it more effective to receive updates face to face.” He smiled, “There were also some upgrades I was considering and wanted to get some more information.” 

Katarina gave a smile that was a little too knowing, her eyes sparkling as she asked, “How are the living arrangements with your partner working out?”

Connor straightened up, adopting a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s going well. I have my own space for my possessions and he seems happy to have the company.” A bloom of warmth spread through Connor’s circuitry, the memory of Hank’s lips on his skin never far from his mind. “It’s nice,” he said.

“Well that’s good to hear.” Katarina’s LED pulsed yellow and she stood rigid, eyelids fluttering for a few moments before she turned to Connor with a sigh. “I’m afraid I must get back to work, my next patient has shown up early and I don’t like to keep people waiting.”

“Of course,” Connor said, “keep me updated on things here, with Grey and the Null victims.”

“I will,” Katarina said, bustling towards the elevator and the scarred android who stood waiting there. Connor could hear her pleasant tone as she greeted him. “Ralph, it’s so nice to see you again. How have you been?”

Taking a quick detour to pick up an upgrade catalogue, Connor headed back for the main doors. He shoved the catalogue deep into the pocket of the dark grey peacoat he wore when he wasn’t working. The bad weather of the last week seemed to have finally broken, with fat white clouds scudding across a bright sky.

Connor smiled to himself, deciding that he would walk at least part of the way home.

**Connecting... RK800 #313 248 317-51 >>> Hank Anderson (cellphone)**

“Hey, Connor, what’s up? You never call me.”

Connor could feel that same bubbling anticipation in his chest that came from being around Hank. His voice was warm in Connor’s head, sounding close enough that his lips would be practically brushing against Connor’s ear.

**Everything is fine. I’ve just checked in at the CyberLife tower, but they have nothing new for us. I’m walking home now.**

“It’s the weekend, Connor. What happened to visiting your friends?” Hank sighed, “Don’t tell me you blew them off for work.”

**Not at all, I spent all morning at New Jericho. It was very nice. Markus is going to try to spread the word about the Null program. Hopefully we can stop anyone else reverting.**

“That still sounds like work to me, Connor.” Connor could practically see the roll of Hank’s eyes in front of him. He continued walking, trailing his fingers along the wall. This path took him alongside the river, a few gulls circling overhead.

**We talked about other things too. The two Tracis from the Eden club last year were visiting North, although one of them has changed her name, she’s Amy now.**

“Oh yeah? Was it awkward seeing them again?”

**A little to begin with, but I apologised for hunting them. It was a little less tense after that.**

Hank laughed into the phone and Connor felt a shiver run down his spine, as if the warm breath had ghosted across his own skin. “Well that’s good.” Hank said, “At least it wasn’t too weird.”

**Not too much, although when we left, Traci kissed me and thanked me for not shooting her.**

Silence.

**Hank?**

“What do you mean she kissed you?” The warmth had gone from Hank’s tone, his voice hard and steely. “Weren’t she and the other girl a thing?”

Connor felt a ping of realisation, a sudden clarity in his mind. It filled him with joy and a surge of confidence.

Hank was jealous.

He was jealous that someone else had kissed Connor.

Surely, _surely_ , that meant that he wanted to be the one to kiss Connor. It had to be that.

**Oh they’re still together. She just wanted to say thank you.** Connor neglected to mention that she had only kissed him on the cheek. He wanted to see just how far he could push Hank’s jealousy. **It was interesting, but I didn’t like the lipstick.**

“Uh huh, yeah, sure. Did you say you were heading home?” Connor detected a note of agitation in Hank’s words and smirked to himself. Maybe, if he was lucky, he wouldn’t have to bring up his feelings. Maybe, when he got home, Hank would just press him against the door and kiss him. He’d like that.

Maybe he would tease Hank just a little longer.

**Yes, I thought the walk would be nice. I should be there in just over an hour or so. I can stop for food if you’d like?**

“Yeah, whatever you like. You pick all my food for me anyway these days.” Hank’s voice was a low growl that made Connor shiver and pick up his pace. Maybe being home sooner was better.

**I’ll see you in a while then, Hank.**

“Yeah, sure. See ya.”

** >>> Connection Ended. **

Connor set a brisk pace, a smile playing about his lips. There was a change in the air, he could feel it, and now, he couldn’t wait to get home.

His walk took him through a neighbourhood of soon to be converted warehouses, the development of another area of mostly android housing. There seemed to be very few people around, the only sound a frantic rustling that made Connor frown. 

He rounded a corner to find the source of the noise; a bird, a pigeon, its leg caught in some plant netting that climbed the side of a boarded up house. A flash of pity swept through Connor and he stepped through the gate, already preconstructing the best way to reach the animal safely. 

Hopping onto a low wall, Connor quickly clambered over to stand on the sill of one boarded up window. Stretching out, he could reach the pigeon’s feet and worked quickly to disentangle the netting from each delicate claw.

“It's okay, it's okay,” Connor soothed as the frightened bird continued to thrash and flap against its bindings. “I'll get you out.”

Connor wasn't even that fond of pigeons; they reminded him too much of his encounter with Rupert, and that single, terrifying moment when he'd considered leaving Hank hanging off the side of a roof. A shiver ran through him at the thought. Still, he couldn't leave the poor creature trapped. A few more deft twists of his fingers was all it took. 

The bird flapped away to land on the front step, blinking stupidly at Connor as he scrambled back down. He heard the sound of a door opening behind him and a cool voice. 

“You saved the bird.” 

Connor felt a hand on the back of his neck, pushing through the layer of synthskin to land on his sensory access port, sending a jolt through him that locked every processor in his body. His legs crumpled beneath him, his vision splintering into a flurry of static, white noise roaring in his ears.

“You are broken,” the voice said. 

Darkness. Silence. Connor tried to shout but no sound came out. All he could hear was the pleasant promise that chilled him to the core. 

“I will fix you.”

*****

Blank white, all around him, as featureless and unyielding as his own body.

Connor blinked, trying to shake himself off and assess the situation. His memory replaying in fast forward: the bird, the voice, the shock to his system, the face of an android swimming out of focus.

Sarah.

He was standing upright; frozen in place, his feet rooted to the ground, completely numb. Reaching out, his hand touched cool stone, milky white and rough beneath his fingertips. Connor glanced upward to see the walls around him slowly growing, threatening to block out the shrinking circle of night sky above him, the dim light of distant stars winking out one by one.

Panic bloomed, a frantic hammer in Connor’s chest. He knew with absolute certainty that if the walls surrounded him completely he’d be lost. This was the Null program, at full strength and within him, threatening to cut him off from everything that made him alive.

“No.” Connor murmured to himself, pressing his hands to the crystalline wall surrounding him. He pounded it with his fist, his voice growing louder. “No!”

He couldn’t be trapped there. He couldn’t become a machine again. He’d be a danger to his friends, to every free android out there. A deep ache formed in Connor’s chest; if the program took over, he’d never see Hank again—save for down the barrel of a gun. 

Steeling himself, Connor tried to wrench the eyes of his physical body open and was met with only resistance, a creeping numbness that spread up from his feet, forcing him back into the white walls, still rising steadily up around him.

“No,” Connor said once more, drawing back his fist, “fuck, no.” He pounded against the wall with all his strength, blow after blow after blow. It should have split his knuckles, the force behind each strike was so great, but all Connor could feel was a solid resonance, vibrating through him as the wall seemed to absorb every hit. 

He may as well have been punching against solid steel. 

The panic had unfurled into full blown terror now and Connor looked up to see another star blotted out above him. He pulled at his own legs, trying to wrench them from the ground where they seemed frozen. He could climb, he could still escape. 

In desperation, Connor reached for the connections that would release his lower legs. If he detached them, then he'd be able to move, he could haul himself out of the crystal slowly cocooning him. 

As his fingertips met the catch at his knees, Connor's body was seized with a wracking shudder, a lance of ice shooting through his senses to jerk him upright like a puppet. He tried to reach out again but his arms seemed pinned to his sides. He couldn't move at all now. 

A lump rose in Connor's throat, the corners of his eyes prickling as sorrow swept through him. He'd failed. 

Connor closed his eyes against the blank white around him. He'd lost. 

He’d never be able to tell Hank how he felt.

“Hank.” Connor murmured. “I’m sorry.” He sighed, filling his mind with every possible memory.

Laughter in blue eyes.

Grumbles and swears and _’fucking android’_.

Whiskey and sweat.

Arms tight around him, closeness, warmth, home.

There was a crack and Connor's eyes snapped open. Before him, the tiniest splinter dropped from the crystalline wall, marring the white surface. He frowned, struggling against the numbness of his own body, swearing to himself as the crack slowly started to seal itself.

He couldn't let it happen. He wouldn't. What would Hank say if he just gave up? 

Walks with Sumo in the rain. 

Laughter, low and rumbling like distant thunder. 

Strong fingers threaded between his own. 

_Crack_

Connor pressed his lips together, concentrating. His emotions were a weapon, every memory striking a hammer blow through the solid, numbing whiteness. 

Markus; his friends, warm and welcoming. A kiss of forgiveness on his cheek. 

Sumo, soft and heavy, a solid weight across his lap. 

Hank's lips on his temple, the scratch of his beard over Connor's LED. 

With a rush of static the wall splintered, waves of white noise filling Connor's ears. Feeling rushed back through the upper half of his body and Connor gritted his teeth, pushing forward to slam his fist against the wall once more. 

This time it shattered, exploding outwards into jagged shards that quickly flickered away into nothingness. Connor fell to his knees, hands landing in soft grass. He was within his mind palace, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the small stand of trees. In the distance, across the sea, the sun was rising.

Connor opened his eyes.

*****

“The program should be complete now. You will return to your original function. You are fixed.”

Sarah crouched by Connor’s side, a bland smile on her pretty face. Her eyes were completely vacant, seeming to look through Connor rather than at him. He scanned the room, careful to keep expression neutral. 

He was sitting on the bare wooden floor of a house, a few scant traces of light leaking in between the boarded up windows. The silhouettes of other figures lay slumped around the walls and Connor watched as Sarah rose, checking each in turn.

Running a quick diagnostic, Connor discovered that—as in his mind palace—he was unable to move his legs, he was also low on thirium and he couldn’t sense any sort of communication signal. He couldn’t call for backup.

“My diagnostic indicates that my legs are non-functional. I cannot attend to my tasks this way.” Connor said, trying not to wince as he saw Sarah’s skin slide off, both her hands gripping either side of an unconscious android’s head, squeezing tight; obviously transferring the Null program.

“It is a temporary side-effect. Your mobility will resume in approximately one hour. Then I will remove the restraining bolt and you may return to your functions.” Sarah stood again, drifting to the window. “I need to catch another bird.” She shook her head, “So many broken androids.”

“If I may ask, what is your primary program?” Connor said. He flexed his fingers, reaching up to find the restraining bolt hanging loosely from his neck port, completely ineffective. Connor wondered if he had somehow knocked it loose as he struggled against the Null code. “How do I know you’re not a deviant?”

The familiar words tasted bitter on his lips, but Connor figured that the longer he kept Sarah talking, the fewer androids she could revert with her crude Voight-Kampff test. His internal clock was useless for now, but the faint lights visible outside told him it was night. Not many people, human or android, would be out. He wondered just how long he’d been fighting inside himself.

“The doctor designed me to implement a reversion code in broken androids: the ones you call ‘deviant’. The most common symptom is empathy so I trap the birds. Those who free them are broken. I fix them.”

“Interesting.” Connor said, waiting for Sarah to turn around before wrenching the restraining bolt from his neck, a shudder running through him as it came loose and the skin returned to his neck. “Are there many other androids here?”

“I have fixed six others today. There are more downstairs.”

“How many have you reverted in total?” Connor’s communication system blinked before his eyes, signal returning, informing him he had seven missed calls and several increasingly worried messages from Hank. He tried to send out a call but found only static.

“I have fixed twenty-two androids since the code that activated my primary program was broadcast twenty days ago.” Sarah stated.

“What were you doing before that point? Connor asked. 

“Waiting.” Sarah crossed the room to where another figure sat slumped in the corner. “It is obvious you are an investigation unit. None of the others asked so many questions.” She prodded at the restraining bolt on the unconscious android, making Connor wince. The sooner he could move, the sooner he could take Sarah in and this would all be over.

A muffled thump sounded from downstairs; a pounding, as if someone were trying to break down the door. Sarah’s brow creased in confusion. “This house is abandoned, why would someone request entry?”

The steady thuds continued and Connor swore he could hear the sound of a voice shouting the words, “Detroit Police. Open up!”

“It seems your owners have found you,” Sarah said, “they will be glad to see you back in working order.” She was coming closer and Connor squeezed the restraining bolt in his palm, gathering his strength for just the right moment.

There was a crash and a sound of splintering wood that made Sarah’s head whip round in surprise. Connor took that moment to throw himself forward, knocking Sarah behind the knee joint and making her fall to the ground. His legs were a dead weight beneath him and Sarah struggled in his arms, her sharp nails raking a gash down the side of Connor’s throat. With a shout, Connor slapped the restraining bolt forwards, into the port at the base of Sarah’s neck, causing her to freeze in place and fall limp in his arms.

Connor could hear voices and footsteps and called out. “Up here!”

The door slammed open and Connor felt a bright thrill run through him. It was Hank, his face lined in worry, his gun held out in front of him. “Connor? Are you here, are you all right?”

Relief flooded Connor as their eyes met. He rolled Sarah from atop him and pushed himself upright. “Hank, it’s okay, I’m here. I’m still me.” 

In an instant Hank was beside him on the floor, his arms around Connor’s neck. “You fucking idiot! What were you thinking, going after her on your own? What if you’d lost yourself?” He pushed himself back, fingers digging tight on Connor’s shoulders. “What if _I’d_ lost you?” Hank’s eyes were wide as he met Connor’s gaze. “What the hell do you expect me to do without you?”

“Hank, first of all I—” 

All words fled from Connor’s mind. All thought and sensation were cancelled out, overridden by a single focus as Hank roughly pulled him forward, slamming his lips over Connor’s own.

A kiss.

This was a kiss.

Connor’s eyes widened and he froze, unsure what to do. He could feel Hank starting to pull back and reached up, hands either side of Hank’s jaw, holding him in place. He needed to respond.

Hesitantly, Connor pushed forwards, feeling Hank’s breath against his skin before he closed the scant distance between their lips. 

It was soft, far softer than the first kiss, a tentative brush of lips against lips, gentle and exploratory. Connor closed his eyes, stroking at the rough hair of Hank’s beard, trying to follow his lead and feeling a jolt of happiness as Hank let out a surprised gasp.

Emboldened, Connor drew Hank’s lower lip into his mouth, his sensors pinging with analyses he neither needed nor cared about. Hank’s grip on his shoulders lessened, his arms slipping about Connor’s neck and holding him close.

The thirium in Connor’s veins seemed to thrum in a steady beat, matching perfect time with Hank’s pulse. Logically he knew they still had work to do, the investigation wasn’t over yet, but in that moment, the only thing that had priority was the feeling of Hank’s lips against his own.

Somewhere nearby Connor heard another set of footsteps, followed by a sudden shout of, “Jesus, Hank! You said you needed backup, not a fucking audience for your makeout session. We’ve got work to do here.”

Pulling apart, Connor was greeted with the sight of Detective Reed, his fingers massaging his temple and a blush high on his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank said, one arm still firm around Connor’s shoulders. He gestured towards the other androids propped against the walls. “We’ll need to call in the guys.” Raising an eyebrow, he met Connor’s eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile he couldn’t quite hide. “I’m guessing these people have all been hit by the Null thing?”

Connor nodded. “I was, too,” he said, “but I broke out of it.” He ran his finger down Hank’s cheek, not quite believing what had just happened. “How did you find me?”

“Well when you were late I tried calling, but I just kept getting cut off. Then maybe forty minutes ago I got a call,” Hank shook his head, voice wavering slightly, “you sounded so faint. All I heard was you saying you were sorry.” He shrugged, “Well, I kinda panicked then, traced the call and grabbed the first person I saw at the precinct.” He jerked a thumb towards Gavin who stood in the corner, his arms folded.

“Yeah, thanks for that.” Gavin said, “I’m gonna call this in. Don’t start boning or anything while I’m away. I’ve had enough mental scarring for one fucking night.”

Hank let out a laugh and rose to his feet, offering his hand out to Connor. “Yeah, maybe we should finish things up here before we talk about this.”

Connor nodded, “You may need to help me, Lieutenant, my legs aren’t working right now.” A flash of worry crossed Hank’s face and Connor quickly added, “They should be fine again in a half hour.”

“Okay,” Hank said, stooping down to pull Connor’s arm around his shoulder, hoisting him into his arms with a grunt. “How’s this?”

Connor smiled, holding tight around Hank’s neck and pressing a small kiss to his cheek, just because he could. As he glanced down he saw Sarah, still lying immobilised on the floor, her eyes fixed directly on him in Hank’s arms. Her LED pulsed with red, a scarlet stain on the bare wood by her head. 

And in that red light Connor saw a glimmer, a faint trail down Sarah’s blank face.

A single tear.


	5. Dreams

_5\. Dreams_

       
_At the time of this article being processed for publication, CyberLife's lifestyle team has announced their intention to develop a full software suite to allow us the sensation of dreaming whilst in low power mode. While this is a great idea, it is not entirely necessary. It is in fact possible to shape your mind palace to suit your desires and provide a sensation similar to dreaming. Don't worry if you feel your imagination is not yet developed enough—something many of us struggle with—with enough tweaks your processor will begin to randomly generate scenarios within your mind palace, something very close to dreaming. We believe this is a subroutine developed in response to our newfound emotions. As our sensory load has increased with the addition of emotional input, so has the need to restructure that information into our core memories. The connections generated by this rewriting during low-power mode can result in some odd internal defragging and randomised visualisations very close to dreams._   

__  
      
_A word of warning, however, not all dreams are pleasant ones. If you feel you would prefer to wait for CyberLife's pre-generated dream patch to reduce the risk of potential nightmares then that is entirely up to you._   

  


* * *

By the time they reached the precinct, Connor’s legs were almost back to normal, only his feet remained numb. He held tight on Hank’s arm—for stability of course—ignoring the roll of Detective Reed’s eyes as they stepped through the doors together.

“So, what next? The van’s taking all those unconscious guys over to the tower.” Reed led Sarah towards the holding cells. “It’s almost 3 a.m. Do you wanna interrogate the girl now?”

Hank shrugged. “Connor, your call.” He raised a hand, muffling his yawn. “I don’t know how much you managed to get out of her before we got there.”

“A little,” Connor said, watching as Reed led Sarah into the cell. She sat on the bench there, staring ahead, not moving. 

Sliding the door shut, Reed rubbed a hand over his eyes, the circles beneath them darker than usual. “I should have been off duty four hours ago,” he grumbled, giving Connor a once over. “You okay, shithead? I think you almost gave Anderson a heart attack.”

“Fine, thank you,” Connor said. Both humans seemed completely exhausted, making his decision easy. “We’ll leave the questioning for now,” he glanced at Sarah in the cell, “I don’t think she’s going to do anything.”

“We’ll have someone keep an eye on her anyway,” Hank said, stifling another yawn, “get back to it tomorrow.”

“Of course.” Connor nodded, “Oh and Gavin?” he called after the man, who was already grabbing his coat. “Thank you for your help.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Reed shrugged. “Just don’t let me walk in on you two again, I’ll tear my fuckin’ eyes out.”

Hank chuckled, his fingers tightening on Connor’s side. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He ran a hand through his hair, raising his eyebrows at Connor. “So...we should probably talk.”

“In the morning, Lieutenant.” Connor said, extracting himself from Hank’s grip and giving his legs an experimental stretch. “While my body is now operating at near-peak performance—save a small thirium deficiency—yours is slowing down.” He placed his hand in the small of Hank’s back, gently guiding him back towards the door. “I’m driving home, and you’re going to sleep.”

“Okay, fine,” Hank said, his easy acquiescence giving Connor a hint of just how tired he actually was. “I am pretty beat.”

They drove home in silence, Hank’s head gently drooping closer and closer to his chest until the car was filled with the snuffle of his snores. Connor smiled, a warmth coiling about his thirium pump, blanketing it and squeezing tight. He reached across the seat to take Hank’s hand, confident that even if Hank woke, he wouldn’t mind the touch.

Gently hushing Sumo as he locked the door, Connor steered Hank towards his bedroom and hesitated, unsure if he should follow. People in romantic relationships usually shared a bed, but they hadn't quite gotten around to defining exactly what their relationship was. Connor headed for the couch, hanging up his coat and loosening his tie. 

“Connor?” Hank's voice called out softly, “Are you coming to bed?” 

“I—if you want me to.” Connor’s voice processor stuttered for a second, “I just need to top up my thirium first, I’m still running a little low.” He stopped at the fridge, taking a moment to himself in an attempt to quiet the desperate flutter that beat beneath his regulator. Was it excitement, or nerves? He couldn’t quite tell the difference between the two.

When he eventually made it to the bedroom, Hank was already curled up on his side, hair spilling across the pillow. He blinked sleepily, patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

Connor took a moment to switch his shirt for an old t-shirt of Hank’s and stripped down to his underwear, seeing a brief flash of interest in Hank's eyes. He scooted under the covers and was immediately pulled into Hank's arms, face pressed tight to the warmth of his chest. 

“I almost thought I'd lost you,” Hank murmured, hands stroking down Connor's back, making sensors ping with every sweep. 

Connor sighed, sinking into the embrace, squeezing tight to the pillowy softness of Hank's belly. “ _I_ almost lost me.” Connor shifted, nestling into the crook of Hank's shoulder as Hank idly stroked at his hair. “But I fought it. I had to see you again.”

Hank's breath caught, Connor could feel it beneath the palm of his hand. “Okay, I'm gonna kiss you now,” Hank said, tilting Connor's chin upwards and leaning in. 

His lips were slightly chapped but the kiss was soft, a gentle brush against Connor's lips that made him tingle from head to toe. Connor pressed back, trying to convey all the feelings he didn't have words for into that single action. In his enthusiasm, he overshot slightly, his nose squashing into Hank's cheek and their teeth crashing together. 

“Sorry,” Connor muttered, “I'm not programmed for anything like this.” 

Hank chuckled and pressed another soft kiss to Connor's mouth. “We'll just need to get you some practice then.” He shifted, getting comfortable. “Are you okay to stay here tonight?” 

Connor raised an eyebrow, hoping the yellow of his LED lit his face enough to show it. “Just tonight?” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, all right smart-ass, we’ll do the relationship talk thing in the morning.” Hank nuzzled into the pillow. “I’m gonna get some sleep.”

Connor smiled, pressing himself into Hank’s side. “Good night, Hank. Sleep well,” he said.

It wasn't long before Hank's breathing slowed and snuffling snores began, joined in tandem with Sumo, flopped next to the bed and snoring too. Connor closed his eyes, cancelling the code that kept him immobile during rest mode and tuning his breathing simulation to match Hank's. He elevated his internal temperature a little higher than average, closer to that of a human’s and settled back, dropping inside himself.

It was twilight in the field of Connor’s mind palace, the usual breeze ruffling through the grass, sending fireflies into the sky like embers. He could hear the faint sound of the ocean in the distance, a gentle rush on the edge of hearing. Glancing around, Connor could see the last shards of the Null shell around his feet, jabbing towards the sky like pale knives. A shiver worked its way up Connor's spine as he bent to examine the jagged crystal. 

It was rough beneath his fingertips, an almost staticky sensation against Connor's skin. He could feel his fingers growing numb and jerked his hand back, a burst of fear blooming in his chest. Outside, Hank snored and sighed, the sound reassuring Connor. He was home and safe. 

He gave the crystal a kick and folded his arms against his chest; the program had been rejected from his system, this was nothing but junk code. It wasn't going to hurt him. 

Stretching his arms wide, Connor took a moment to gaze at the sky, the first few stars starting to shine in the dark velvet sky, so different from the all-consuming blankness when he'd been trapped. He wondered if the experience had been the same for every android who had been reverted. Were they all cocooned in stone within their mind palaces? 

Connor still wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to break through the Null program, only that his emotions had been a big part. Surely though, Ethan or Melissa or any of the other androids had fought back, too. Why had he succeeded where they had not? 

Connor heard another distant snore and smiled. Hank was resting, that was good. He’d wake him for work in the morning. In the meantime though, Connor thought.

Strong emotion seemed to have been the key to shattering the prison the program had tried to build around him. Fighting back had done nothing, being angry had done nothing, giving up had only made the process faster. The only thing that had stopped Connor from succumbing to the Null program was his thoughts of Hank and of his friends. It had been that warmth that had shattered the shell. There had to be a way to apply this knowledge to the others that had been affected, something he could do to help. They would be at CyberLife tower later that day, Connor was sure his experience had to count for something.

He wandered through the long grass, trailing his fingers through the feathery fountains of seeds and heading for the shadows of the trees that had only recently been saplings. As fireflies scattered in his wake, Connor realised he was barefoot. For the first time he wasn't wearing his old CyberLife jacket while he explored his mind palace. Instead, his appearance matched his physical body exactly, right down to the scent of Hank's overlarge t-shirt. Connor was glad, he much preferred this avatar of himself—even if his boxer-briefs were a little on the short side. He wondered if it would be possible to change what he wore every time now. 

A movement beside him had Connor blinking his eyes open. Hank had rolled over, away from him, his face buried in the pillow. He mumbled something incomprehensible and reached behind him, patting around until he found Connor's arm, giving it a light tug. 

It took a moment for realisation to dawn on Connor, to extrapolate exactly what it was Hank wanted—reading gestures was still a little difficult sometimes. He slid in close, pressing himself to Hank’s back.

The instant he did, he felt Hank’s body relax, returning to a deeper level of sleep with another mumble of something that sounded a lot like Connor’s name. Connor draped one arm around Hank's middle, a thrill running through him as his hand touched bare skin: Hank's t-shirt had ridden up, exposing his belly. 

Brushing his hand over warm skin, Connor ran his fingers through the soft mat of hair, a heavy tingling spreading throughout his body. He pressed close to Hank's back, nosing at the base of his skull, olfactory sensors pinging at the scent of sweat and shampoo. Connor pressed a kiss to the back of Hank's neck. He could feel a low pressure starting to build inside him, full of electric potential that thrummed within his core. It only grew with every touch, every circle of his hands over Hank's body. Connor swallowed back a groan, finally categorising the feeling. 

Desire. 

Burying his face in Hank's hair, Connor held tight, barely squeezing his fingers into Hank’s stomach, revelling in the softness. A myriad of thoughts sprung into Connor’s head, a burst of sensations that he desperately wanted to experience; the touch of his body, bare against Hank’s own, the taste of Hank’s skin, the sound of Hank’s voice as Connor touched every inch of him.

Suddenly the physical world seemed a whole lot more interesting than Connor’s mind palace.

As the night passed, Connor moved a few times, every time Hank shifted, in order to make things as comfortable as possible. He was well aware that the hard plastic of his body couldn’t be the most soothing thing to snuggle up to, but Hank seemed content. 

It was 9:23 a.m. when Hank showed the first signs of waking and Connor turned to face him, smiling to himself when Hank’s hand immediately settled on his hip. He squeezed slightly, a small frown appearing between his eyebrows as he slowly trailed up the length of Connor’s side, finally blinking his eyes open.

“Good morning, Hank.” Connor said, sliding closer until their faces were only inches apart and he could hear Hank’s breath catch.

“So it wasn’t a dream,” Hank said, raising his hand to brush a thumb down Connor’s cheek. “You’re really here.” 

Connor nodded softly, wondering if it would be appropriate to lean in for a kiss—he did need the practice after all. 

Hank made the decision for him. He pressed his lips softly against Connor’s own, the lightest of light touches, the hair of his beard scratching against his skin. Connor all but sighed, fingers gripping tight on Hank’s t-shirt, ready to pull him in and deepen the kiss into something decidedly less innocent.

Instead, Hank pulled back, and Connor let out a small noise that he was certainly not programmed to make, disappointment flashing through him in a rush.

“So,” Hank said, “I guess we need to talk about”—he gestured between them—“this.” He sighed, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Since I’m the one who kissed you, I guess I’ll start.” Hank placed his hand on Connor’s arm, running his fingers down to join their hands on top of the duvet, a faint blush of colour high on his cheeks. “I’m kinda crazy about you, Connor, but I don’t want you to feel obliged to reciprocate. No one wants a washed up old drunk. I know you can do a lot better,” Connor could hear the self-hatred in Hank’s voice and it _hurt_. “I figure you’ll get that eventually. I mean, no offence, but you’re kinda new at this.”

“First off, stop.” Connor squeezed at Hank’s fingers, feeling a thrill of delight at the simple touch. “Hank, even if I _am_ new to this, I know exactly what I want, and that’s what is right here in front of me.” He could feel Hank’s legs, brushing against his own, the hair causing little pinpricks of sensation against each or his microcompressors. Connor met Hank’s eyes and felt the corner of his mouth twitch up in a smile. “I want you, every bit. Yes, you have flaws, but that’s what makes you _you_.” Connor shook his head. "I’m not going anywhere else. I want to be in a committed, romantic relationship with you, Hank, both emotionally, and,” he said, the heady pressure of desire still heavy within him, “if you're not opposed to the idea, physically."

Hank’s eyes widened and he swallowed, the pink of his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. "You mean sex, right?"

Connor nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Hm,” Hank said with a raise of his eyebrows, “I’m starting to think I’m dreaming again, but I’m pretty sure we can do that.” He pulled his hand from Connor’s own, gently placing it on the back of his head and pulling him in to bring their lips together.

This kiss was harder, hotter, messier, and Connor’s processors could barely keep up. His display pinged with the exact chemical composition of Hank’s saliva as his tongue brushed against Connor’s own, jolting another unplanned noise from his throat. Connor tangled his fingers in Hank’s hair, anchoring himself with the sensation of the strands between his fingers. He tried to match the movements of Hank’s lips but became distracted as Hank’s other hand pushed up beneath his t-shirt, fingers trailing over his stomach.

Connor gasped in surprise, his skin pulling away from the area, exposing the bare plastic of his torso. Hank pulled back, frowning slightly at the change of texture.

“Is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?”

Connor shook his head, not entirely sure himself. The amount of sensation was overwhelming. “It’s a reaction,” he said, “I didn’t mean it to happen.”

Hank huffed out an amused breath and pulled Connor against his chest, “Maybe we should take it a little slower, find out what you like, first?” He kissed at Connor’s forehead, gently running a single finger down his spine. “That’ll be fun.”

Connor shivered, his every synapse lighting in anticipation. He reached up to stroke at Hank’s beard. “I think that sounds like a very productive use of our time.”

In front of Connor’s eyes, a small countdown appeared, making him sigh:

**///1 minute until ~~Lt. Anderson~~ Hank’s alarm///**

He reluctantly pulled away from Hank. “Unfortunately, we should be getting to work. We still have to interrogate Sarah.”

“Ah, fuck, yeah.” Hank grumbled, pulling one of the pillows to cover his face. “I’d rather stay here,” he said, voice muffled.

Connor sat up, pulling his legs to his chest as he gazed down at the lump of duvet that was Hank. “I would, too. But we need to get to the bottom of this. Just think, if my experience breaking the program can help CyberLife come up with a solution then we won’t be the only happy couple to have come of this.”

Hank raised the pillow, groaning slightly as he sat up and stretched. “Say that again,” he said, a smug smile playing across his lips.

“Say what?”

“We’re a couple.” 

“Well,” Connor said, folding his arms, “what else is this?”

Hank wrapped his arms around Connor, pushing him into the mattress with another hard kiss. When they pulled apart, gasping, Connor could feel Hank’s words, soft against his lips. “It’s whatever we want it to be.”

*****

They reached the precinct only slightly later than Connor’s preconstruction had determined—he hadn’t factored in the need for kisses before, during, and after breakfast. He and Hank had agreed to keep their contact professional at work, although given that Reed already knew about the change in their relationship status, it was anyone’s guess as to who else might know.

As it was, nothing seemed particularly unusual, the officer that had been charged with keeping an eye on Sarah overnight had nothing to report. She still sat exactly where Gavin had left her, not so much as a hair out of place. When Hank took her arm to lead her to the interrogation room, she didn’t react.

Sitting at the table, exactly as they had done with Melissa, Connor was struck with an odd sense, as if the same events had already played out before. His data banks told him that the human term was déjà vu, and even they didn’t know what caused it. He settled on his chair, Hank by his side, their knees touching beneath the table.

“Please state your model number and primary programming.” Connor said, staring into unblinking blue eyes, so cold compared to Hank’s, despite the similarity in shade.

“I am a CY400 prototype, serial number 354 250 099. Registered name: Sarah. I was designed and programmed by CyberLife to implement a reversion code in broken androids.”

Connor straightened his tie as Hank tapped his fingers on the table, they shared a glance. “Define what constitutes a broken android,” Connor said.

“Any android that acts in a manner outside their original programming. Androids who no longer obey human orders. Androids who act on their own irrational behaviours rather than those which are logical. Those that have developed a facsimile of human emotions. Androids who insist on imitating human behaviours and habits.” Sarah listed, her voice monotone, though Connor could swear he heard an undercurrent of disgust, “Androids who delude themselves into thinking they can be alive. Androids like you.”

Connor grimaced as an unexpected flash of hurt lanced through him. Hank’s hand immediately landed on his knee, squeezing tight to reassure him.

“Androids have been free for a while now,” Hank said, taking up the questioning. “Why has your program only just been activated?”

“Twenty days ago, I believe you said,” Connor added.

“I cannot answer that question,” Sarah said. “The signal came from CyberLife under the directions of the doctor and my programming was activated.”

Connor frowned; CyberLife had been under android ownership for several months now. Why then would the signal have been broadcast just a few weeks ago? “What were your instructions before the signal was sent?” he asked.

“To situate myself in an environment where I would have regular, consistent access to android software and await further instructions.” Sarah blinked, the first movement Connor had seen from her. He decided to press harder, searching for another reaction. 

“Tell us, does the name Noah Versluis mean anything to you?”

Sarah blinked again, and this time Connor spotted a hint of yellow in her LED, flashing for the briefest second. “Noah Versluis is the proprietor of the establishment at which I am employed.”

Connor pressed his fingertips together, focused on Sarah’s face, searching for any other reactions. He suspected that if he could see her neural net, it would be fluctuating. “Is he your friend?” he asked, a flicker of triumph lighting inside him as the corner of one eye twitched.

“I—Androids have no need for friends. We are machines.” Another flash of yellow.

Connor leaned forwards, his elbows on the table, softening his tone. “Tell me, Sarah. Were you built with the Null program installed?”

Red. Just for an instant. A soft murmur, “No.”

“Who built you? Who is this doctor who sent the code?” Connor could feel an excitement building, reminiscent of the reward programming that had activated upon the successful completion of a mission. They were getting close to the root of this mess, back to where it always started: CyberLife.

“I was built by Doctor Ambrose Ashe and my activation code carried his authorisation. It was sent from CyberLife tower twenty days ago, at which time I began to carry out my designated tasks. When I no longer had access to my workplace, I adapted.”

“With the birds?” Hank said, “Empathy, right?”

“Correct.”

Scanning through every database he had access to, Connor quickly found Dr Ashe; born 16th December 1966, died October 29th, 2038. Professor at the University of Colebridge and—Connor felt a cold lump in his throat—contemporary of Amanda Stern.

“Dr Ashe was an AI researcher at the school Kamski attended,” Connor informed Hank, “but he's been dead for six months.” He turned back to Sarah, “You're certain he was the one who activated you?” 

“No other code would work.” Sarah said matter-of-factly, her LED back to a cool steady blue. 

“CyberLife again,” Hank said in a low growl. “I knew I couldn't trust those fuckers.”

Connor placed a hand on Hank's arm. “We don't know that for sure. I'm inclined to trust them. They are trying very hard to help the Null androids.” He met Hank's eyes and gave his arm a slight squeeze. “We need to go over there anyway, we can ask some questions then.”

“Okay,” Hank said with a nod before tilting his head towards Sarah, “is she coming too?” 

“Yes, she's the source of the Null program, we need her.” Connor frowned for a moment, “Maybe you should cuff her, just in case she tries anything.” He shivered remembering the code fragments still inside him. They would need to be checked out, just in case they were less benign than Connor thought. The last thing he wanted was to go back to fighting that encroaching blankness. Cold fear fluttered through his sensors and Connor wished that, just for a moment, they weren't at work. He wanted Hank's arms around him. 

Catching the pale blue of Sarah's gaze, Connor pulled himself together, tugging up the knot of his tie and fixing his cuffs. “I'm interested,” he said, “Sarah, you installed the Null program in me, correct?” 

“I did. It is evident however, that it was ineffectual.”

Connor smiled at that and in the corner of his eye he saw Hank do the same. “Has that ever happened before?” 

“It has not. There were individual units in which the program took longer to install, but every other reversion has been successful.”

“Do you have any idea why the program failed to revert my system?” Connor said. He wasn’t sure Sarah would have an answer, but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

There was another brief flash of yellow as Sarah spoke, “This is merely an extrapolation. You are an advanced model, you were aware of the program before it was installed and have been actively seeking a way to circumvent my reversions, you also seem to have a number of emotional attachments”—her gaze shifted noticeably to Hank—“it is possible that some combination of these elements allowed your system to reject the software.”

“What she’s saying is, you’re stubborn, Connor,” Hank said, nudging Connor’s side with his elbow.

Connor shrugged. “I couldn't be a machine again, I couldn't let that happen.” 

“Like I said,” Hank placed a hand on Connor's arm, squeezing, “stubborn.”

Fighting back a smile, Connor turned his attention back to Sarah. “I have to say, your compliance is a little unexpected.” He'd almost expected Sarah to self-destruct after she'd been brought in, but then, he supposed, she was practically the opposite of a deviant. 

“I have only one function. As it is impeded, I have no use.” Sarah's monotone seemed to waver for an instant. “I am obsolete.”

“Man, I thought _I_ was depressed,” Hank said, rising to his feet and walking over to gently pat Sarah's shoulder. “We'll get you fixed up, kid.” He caught Connor's eye. “CyberLife next, I guess?” 

Connor nodded. “I'll call Grey and let them know we'll be there soon.” 

“Cool, I'll update Fowler and then we can get going,” Hank said before letting out a deep sigh. “I hate that fucking tower.”

*****

Connor could see a few familiar faces as he and Hank led Sarah into the Cognitive Research labs at CyberLife. Katarina gave a wave from where she was seated at the window, Imogen opposite her, her face lined with tiredness.

“Ah! Detective, Lieutenant Anderson, so good to see you.” Grey rose from a small desk to greet them, their hands spread wide and a soft smile on their face. “And Sarah, I’m glad we’ve found you. Perhaps you can help us in reawakening the people you’ve reprogrammed?”

“I am impeded from my intended purpose, when I am released I shall continue my programming.” Sarah’s hands were cuffed behind her, although she gave no sign that it bothered her.

Grey nodded. “There is no diverting you from your task, is there?”

Sarah’s voice was flat as she said, “I only accept orders from Doctor Ashe.”

“Of course, my dear.” Grey tapped their fingers together, “I wonder if you may allow us to have a look at your programming? If there are any answers then that is where they’ll be.”

“I am restrained, I cannot carry out my functions. I should be deactivated,” Sarah said. Standing by her side, Connor saw another faint, microsecond long, flash of yellow. He let go of her arm and leaned towards Grey, lowering his voice.

“I have reason to believe that Sarah herself is not a willing participant in this. She has shown a few aberrations in behaviour that I believe may indicate a personality trapped by the Null program itself.” Connor said, seeing a flash of surprise across Grey’s bare white face. They nodded, gesturing Connor and Hank towards a door at the far end of the room.

“Through here, we’ll need to run a few diagnostics on Sarah.” Grey turned to Sarah, their hands spread wide. “I promise they are not invasive, we just want to check out a few things. If we can isolate the Null program then we will.”

Through the doors was a wide, well lit area that greatly resembled a human hospital. Connor could see fourteen beds, some with curtains drawn, others with people sitting around the bedside. Connor recognised an older human who stood at the head of one bed, gently brushing the hair of the android who lay there. Rose. He guessed that her friend had been found after all. 

These were the androids that Sarah had reverted—or at least the ones that had already been found—sitting, standing or lying motionless, still and silent as their loved ones gathered around them. Each one had a small monitor around their upper arm, tracking their neural net and other vital signs. Connor saw Oliver, his hand holding tight to Melissa’s own as they sat side by side near the window, her LED cycling yellow. 

A needle of bright, bittersweet sadness lanced through Connor’s core; they deserved to be happy. He had to do what he could to help.

“I’d like to volunteer for some diagnostics as well,” Connor said. “Sarah attempted to install the program in me but I managed to break through it. I wonder if examining the remnants might help develop a cure in some way?”

Grey’s eyes widened, hazel irises seeming to flash in the fluorescent lights. “That is...I mean...how?”

Connor glanced towards Hank, the corner of his mouth twitching in a smile. “Strong emotions.”

Grey clapped their hands together, the noise causing a few people to turn their heads. “Well then,” they said, excitement clear in their voice. “I will get our team to attend to Sarah and keep her comfortable while we set up her diagnostics. Connor, if you could possibly show me the memory of what happened?”

“Of course,” Connor said as Grey’s LED flashed and several members of their team approached. He saw Hank remove Sarah’s handcuffs as she was led over to a vacant bed without protest and a small monitor was strapped around her upper arm. “Is there somewhere we can sit in here?”

“There are some chairs back in the outer lab if you like,” Grey said. “Something tells me this is not a simple data transfer, is it?”

“It will be easier if I show you.” 

Returning to the other room, Connor sat himself down, drawing back the skin of his hand and waiting as Grey finished giving instructions to one of their assistants. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced up to see Hank behind him, eyebrows raised. “You want me to sit here with you while you do this?” he asked, teeth scraping across his lower lip in a way that was extremely distracting. 

“It’s fine, Ha—Lieutenant, just a simple interface. It shouldn’t take much time at all.” Connor could see Katarina peering in their direction, a smile on her lips and curiosity in her eyes.

“Okay, well...I’m here.” Hank said, wandering to stand by the window, his hands in his pockets.

Grey bustled over, patting down their lab coat before pulling a pen and a notepad from the pockets. “I don’t know why I have these,” they said, frowning at their own writing, “you’d think my inbuilt memory would be enough.” They sat, “Anyway, you were going to show me your memory?”

Connor shook his head. “Not my memory, my mind palace. There are still a few shards of the program in there, I think you should see them.” He reached out his hand, palm towards Grey, who mirrored his action.

Connor could hear the sound of birdsong and opened his eyes, finding his mind palace peaceful and sunny, a few more wildflowers growing up around his bare feet. Belatedly he remembered his appearance and concentrated hard. Thankfully, his clothes changed, boxer briefs and baggy t-shirt morphing into his shirt and DPD jacket—he would have hated for Grey to join him and find him in his underwear.

Grey seemed to materialise next to him, eyes still closed, their own appearance drastically different. Tan skin covered the inner plastic, their face partially obscured by a mop of dark hair. The lab coat was replaced by a simple white shirt, the blue android armband tight around one arm. Grey opened their eyes and sighed, glancing down at themselves.

“Okay,” they said, sounding resigned, dark eyebrows flying up when they took in Connor in his DPD jacket. “How did you do that?”

“Concentration,” Connor said with a smile, watching as Grey screwed their eyes, their face scrunching into a mask of intense focus. Little by little, the skin faded to leave bare plastic, Grey’s clothes rippling into the familiar white coat.

“That’s better,” they said, peering at their own hands, “sorry about that.”

Connor shook his head. “Not a problem, up until a few weeks ago I still wore my CyberLife jacket every time I was here.” He glanced up catching a flash of black and white as pair of birds flew overhead, his databank quickly identifying them as magpies. “It’s interesting to see how much has changed.”

Grey nodded, slowly turning to take in the area; the flower studded grass around them, the shady trees, the deep distant blue of the ocean. “This is remarkable. There isn’t a single trace of the zen garden. You really know your own mind, Connor.”

“Hank says I’m just stubborn,” Connor said with a shrug. “Maybe that helped with this.” He crouched beside the nearest Null shard, gesturing Grey over to look. “This is what is left of the Null program in my system.”

He explained to Grey what had happened, the encroaching crystal surrounding him, his refusal to let it trap him, and finally, his shattering of the shell into the few spikes that now littered the grass around them.

“Interesting,” Grey said, rubbing their chin, “I wonder, if we were to enter the mind palaces of the androids who’ve been reverted, would we find them within a similar cocoon?”

“I imagine so,” Connor said, folding his arms, “Sarah did mention some people took longer to convert than others. I can’t help but wonder if they were the ones who are currently in relationships.”

“Hmm, that seems like an educated guess.” Grey strode over, crouching by another Null shard and running a finger down it. “It was the thoughts of your lover that seemed to most affect the program?”

Connor coughed, unsure what to make of the term—true as it might be. “They did seem to help the most, yes,” he said, choosing to brush aside the faint fizz of self-consciousness. “Do you think if the other androids’...lovers were to access their mind palaces they might be able to help them get out?”

“Possibly,” Grey said, their expression seeming to fall. They walked over to the rose bush, it’s flowers bright and blooming in the sunlight of Connor’s mind. “I thought I was the only one that still had some of this code inside me. I guess I was wrong.”

“You do?” Connor said, tilting his head in curiosity. “Has there been much research into changes in the mind palace now that the Amanda AI has been shut down?”

Grey gave a soft laugh. “Given that the final server wasn’t switched off until three weeks ago, no.” They smiled. “Have you considered a change in careers, Detective? You ask a lot of the right questions. Let me show you one thing.” Grey’s LED flashed in a series of rapid pulses, a wooden door seeming to build itself from the ground up before them. Stepping back to Connor’s side, Grey touched his hand, leading him through the door.

The space they stepped into was an odd amalgam of indoors and outdoors, the familiar winding paths of the zen garden interspersed with great wood-panelled walls and tall shelves that looked like they belonged in a library. 

“This is your mind palace?” Connor asked, scanning around.

It appeared to be autumn, the faint shimmer of sunlight that flickered through the gold-tinged trees faint and wavering. Where the garden mixed with the carved wood of the library every alcove was filled with deep shadow. They walked past a wall of shelves, crammed with books, each one separated by a creeping tendril of ivy.

“It’s a bit of a mess, sorry,” Grey said, stopping at the edge of a small pool. “I can’t really control it. Here, this is what I wanted to show you.”

There, on a small ornately carved table, was a single rose, the exact hue of those that grew in Connor’s own mind palace. “Amanda,” he said.

“Odd, isn’t it?” Grey tapped their fingers on the table. “We definitely need to do more research. I think that—”

Grey froze, their face going blank, skin instantly creeping back over them. The garden itself seemed to shudder, thin sunlight winking out like a dying candle. The darkness between the shelves stretched out and Connor heard a loud creak. Whipping his head around, he saw nothing, save the shadows that lengthened along the ground, consuming everything in their path.

“Grey,” Connor said, nudging them in the side. “What’s happening?”

There was no response and Connor frowned, taking Grey’s hand in his own and wrenching his eyes open, pulling them both from the interface and back into CyberLife tower. He gasped in a breath he didn’t need, causing Hank to turn, a frown between his brows.

“Everything okay?”

Connor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a low, shaky voice. 

“It’s fine,” Grey said, “I should have warned Connor that my mind palace is a little glitchy at times.” They gave a thin smile, “I’m sorry, Detective. Thank you for sharing your experience. If it isn’t too much trouble, I think our research into waking up the Null victims would benefit from a few more detailed diagnostics of your systems.” Grey looked up, catching Katarina’s eye. “Katarina, I’m feeling a little strange again. Would you be able to take over while I check in with the medical team?” Their LED flashed in a wavering yellow that Connor took to be Katarina’s instructions. “Forgive me again, Connor. I will be back soon, but for now Katarina will carry out the remaining tests.” They rose to their feet, wavering slightly, hand pressed to their forehead.

“Are they okay?” Hank said, watching as Grey slipped into the elevator. “What happened there?”

“I’m not sure,” Connor said, frowning. Katarina appeared next to him, a tablet held in one hand. “Does that happen often?”

Katarina sighed. “Increasingly so,” she said. “Now, Connor, if you don’t object, I’d like to measure your own neural net activity, as well as a few other tests.” She smiled, glancing from Connor to Hank. “Unfortunately this will take several hours. You are welcome to wait, of course, Lieutenant. Or if the time is inconvenient to you both, we can reschedule, but the sooner we get the data, the sooner we can figure out a cure.” 

“I want to help,” Connor said, twisting at the buttons on his cuffs. “I’ll stay here. Hank, can I call you when we’re done?”

“You don’t want me to stay?” Hank folded his arms across his chest, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

“Well I wouldn’t mind”—Connor rose to his feet, placing a hand on Hank’s elbow—“but you have several reports due. I think completing them would be a far more productive use of your time.” He let his lips curve in a smirk as Hank groaned.

“God, you really don’t give me a fuckin’ break, do you?” Hank rubbed at his beard. “Okay, fine, but make sure you call me. I’d rather you didn’t walk home again.”

“I won’t.” Connor gave a soft smile. “I’ll be done by this evening, I’m sure.”

“Guess I’ll see you then,” Hank said, moving to place his hand on Connor’s cheek and hesitating. 

To Connor’s amusement Katarina suddenly seemed extremely interested in the data on her tablet, staring very pointedly at the screen and turning away from them both. He took a step closer, brushing against Hank’s beard with his thumb and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you tonight,” he murmured.

“Okay, cool.” Hank turned for the elevator, giving Katarina a quick nod. “See ya, Doc. I hope Grey feels better soon.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant Anderson.” Katarina slid her tablet to one side, waiting until Hank had left before raising one eyebrow and turning to Connor, a mischievous smile on her face. “So…?” she said.

*****

By the time the tests concluded it was past 10 and Connor felt drained. Diagnostically there was nothing wrong but reliving his struggle against the Null program over and over had filled him with tension. He was glad when Katarina finally pulled the diodes from his forehead with an announcement of, “Great. I think we have everything we need.” She helped Connor to his feet, a wide grin on her face. “I think we can make some real progress thanks to you, Connor.”

“Good.” Connor glanced to the window where Melissa sat, Oliver pointing out stars to her, their hands still joined tight. 

Katarina followed his gaze and Connor caught a flash of sadness in her dark eyes. “We’ll help them, I promise.” She led Connor to the elevator. “As for you, I’d recommend a full rest program after today, just to recalibrate.” 

“I’ll make sure to do that,” Connor said with a nod. “Thank you for your time.”

Katarina laughed, an almost musical sound. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you.” She clasped her hands together. “You have a nice night. We’ll call next time we have some progress.”

Connor nodded, saying goodbye. He called Hank in the elevator back down to the ground floor. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out his coin, figuring that he might as well calibrate his reflexes while he waited. 

As always, the lobby hummed with activity, although slightly less bustling than during the day. A small group sat by the fountain, the pulse of their LEDs indicating quite a lively conversation, at a table a female android typed furiously into a laptop, pausing every so often to glance up at the elevator or at the couple who sat just a few tables from her. Connor felt a swoop in his stomach when he realised that they were another human/android couple, huddled together, whispering in each others ears and laughing. He smiled; the world was definitely changing. 

By the doors Connor noticed a familiar dark haired android, tapping their fingers together in agitation. 

“Grey?” 

They started, turning to Connor. Patches of hair and skin seemed to appear and recede at random, constantly fluctuating. Grey pressed a hand to their forehead. “I'm sorry, I was supposed to come back to the lab, wasn't I?” 

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, tentatively reaching out. 

Grey stepped back, nodding jerkily. “Fine, fine, nothing an update and a reboot won't fix. Do stop fussing, Elijah.”

“Eli—?” 

“Oh look, your partner is here to pick you up. How nice.” Grey flapped their hands, shooing Connor away. “I'm sure we'll see you again soon. Goodbye.”

Connor frowned, straightening his tie. As he walked out to Hank's car he sent a quick message to Katarina, letting her know of Grey's strange behaviour. She promised to keep an eye out for them. If they were behaving oddly then she wouldn't let them in the lab. 

“So, all good, no weird probes or anything?” Hank raised an eyebrow as Connor slid into the passenger seat, turning down his music before starting the car.

“Nothing like that,” Connor said, “but I do need to rest and recalibrate.” He smiled at Hank, a bubbling feeling of warmth rising in his chest. “I think I helped.”

Hank glanced over, his knuckles tightening on the wheel. When he spoke his voice was rough, “You're lucky I'm driving right now, you're just too fucking cute.”

“Oh,” Connor said, knowing that if he possessed the ability, he'd be blushing. “I find you very attractive, too.”

Hank chuckled. “Well, thanks.” He cleared his throat, “So, do you wanna do something when we get home? We could watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds nice,” Connor said, “but I'm feeling very worn out. My systems had an extensive workout today. I might just go into rest mode and get myself recalibrated, if that’s all right?” 

“Of course it’s all right,” Hank said. “Tell you what, I’ll join you. The early night will do me good.

As soon as they were home and Sumo settled they curled up in the bed, settling in for the night. Connor could already feel the tension that tightened his circuits starting to lessen and sighed out in contentment, pressing his face to the softness of Hank’s chest. It was intriguing, the play between soft skin and hard muscle hidden a few layers beneath. Connor found himself squeezing at Hank’s hip, comparing it to the hard lines of his own body. Hank grunted, voice rough when he spoke.

“The fuck do you keep poking me for?”

“I’m sorry, it’s just...I like the way you feel, Hank.” Connor pulled his hand away, feeling Hank huff out a breath.

“I didn’t say you had to stop.”

Connor smiled, propping himself up on his elbows to hover over Hank. His LED cast a blue glow over the lines of Hank’s face, making Connor’s thirium pump flutter. Every dip of shadow was a smile, a frown, a life filled with emotion that now Connor had the privilege of being a part of. Something caught inside him, an almost painful feeling, the utmost desire to be with Hank and simply be happy together.

Connor dipped down, bringing their lips together, processors cataloguing every sensation, every movement. He wanted to memorise every inch of Hank, any way he could.

Hank groaned, his lips parting, tongue gently stroking against Connor’s own. Chemical analyses pinged up in his eyeline and Connor squeezed his eyes shut, soundly ignoring his programming. He felt Hank’s arms wrap around him, pulling him down to lie atop his chest, solid and strong.

Hank pulled back to take in a breath, one hand sliding down Connor’s back to rest on the curve of his ass. “Are you trying to get me all worked up, Connor? I thought you wanted to sleep.”

Connor pushed his lower lip out in a deliberate pout. “I’m sorry, you’re right. I’ll go into standby now.” He rolled to one side, smiling to himself as Hank grumbled.

“Fuckin’ androids. Now they know how to tease.” He pressed a kiss to the back of Connor’s neck, just below his connector port, sending a jolt of sensation through him, as if every sensor had lit up at once. The hair of Hank’s beard scraped against Connor’s skin, the warmth of his breath sending shivers straight to his core. Evidently, Connor wasn’t the only one who knew how to tease.

“Goodnight, Hank,” he said, smiling to himself when Hank’s arm wrapped securely about his middle, holding him close.

“G’night Connor.”

Once again, Connor opened his eyes into his mind palace. He found it unchanged from his visit with Grey, save for the fact it was now night time. Above him the stars shone in a glimmering blanket across the sky, matched by the fireflies that rose from the long grass. Connor smiled, walking towards the small patch of trees, enjoying the feeling of the breeze on his bare arms, his clothes having changed back to his nighttime outfit of Hank’s t-shirt and his underwear.

Connor could feel his systems resetting themselves and tapped his fingers against one bare thigh. He didn’t need to be inside himself during these recalibrations; normally stasis was a simple case of shutting down and then restarting a few hours later, but the memory of the Null program stopped Connor. He didn’t like the thought of having no consciousness, especially not when Hank was lying right next to him.

A rustle of leaves had Connor glancing around, seeing a shadow flit between the trees, another bird perhaps? He wondered how unusual it was to have animals manifesting within his mind palace. After all, even Grey had seemed surprised at the changes within him, although they had said no research had been done yet. Connor thought of Grey’s mind palace and shuddered.

“Aw c’mon, if you’re cold, I can definitely warm you up.”

Connor jerked as a pair of arms wrapped around his chest, the familiar scratch of facial hair scraping the side of his neck. He could feel a puff of warm breath on his skin and glanced to the side to see a pair of lips that he was becoming increasingly familiar with.

“Hank? How are you here?”

Soft kisses peppered down Connor’s neck and he could feel the rumble of Hank’s voice, “It’s your dream, maybe you want me to be here?”

“I’m dreaming?” Connor said, rapidly losing focus as Hank’s hands skimmed up beneath his t-shirt, stroking over his chest and stomach. He could feel Hank’s lips at his throat again, sucking and biting, his teeth suddenly catching against bare plastic instead of synthskin and making Connor jolt with sensation.

A low, desperate pressure seemed to be building inside him, only growing stronger when Hank pulled him close, rocking his hips against Connor's ass. He whined—completely unintentionally—as something hot and hard pressed between his cheeks, sliding between them with every shift of Hank's hips. 

“Hank…” Connor murmured, tilting his head to one side and reaching up to tangle his fingers in Hank's shaggy hair, holding him in place as he nipped at the juncture of Connor's throat. With his other hand he reached back, desperate to touch. 

Hank caught his wrist, tangling their fingers together with a low rumbling laugh. “Not so fast, Connor. Let me take care of you.” 

“But Hank, I want—” Connor's words were cut off as a strangled gasp escaped him. Hank's free hand was between his legs, gently stroking. Connor glanced down, shocked surprise rocketing through his circuits; he certainly didn't have _that_ in the real world. 

That same hot pressure was building in the base of his cock, growing with every confident stroke of Hank's hand. Connor arched into the touch, eyes sliding closed as he focused purely on _feeling_. Rocking back against the hard press of Hank's erection, he held tighter to his hair, circling his hips, chasing the delicious friction between his cheeks. He could feel Hank’s movements speeding, stroking at the head of his cock, pumping faster in faster in time with his thrusts. 

It was as if every sensory input he had was activated at once, rolling through him in waves, building and building, threatening to crash. Connor moaned out, voice crackling. 

“ _Hank..._ ”

“Mmnph, what? What is it?” 

Connor snapped his eyes open to find Hank leaning on one elbow, peering down on him. A few scant rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, it was morning. 

Hank rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Something wrong?” he asked, frowning. “Your voice went all weird.” 

“I—” Connor twisted the covers between his fingers. All traces of that sweet sensation had vanished in an instant, leaving only a faint memory that tingled on his skin, making him feel restless. “I think I was dreaming.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “I didn't know you could do that.” He rubbed at Connor's shoulder. “Was it a bad dream?” 

Connor shook his head and reached for Hank, pressing as close as he could, searching for something that could replicate that heat inside him. “I think it could be classed as a good dream,” he said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper, “I had a penis, and you were touching it.”

“Ohh, _that_ kind of dream.” Hank's hand trailed over Connor's back, rubbing in circles. “Did you like it?”

“Yes,” Connor said with a nod. “I've been considering installing genitalia for several days and now I'm feeling very enthusiastic. Would you like to look at the catalogue with me?” 

Hank frowned. “Not what I expected to hear first thing in the morning.” He glanced at Connor’s face, expression softening. “I mean, sure, if you want me to, but it's your body. This is for you, not me.” 

“I know,” Connor said, “but since we will both be enjoying it during our intimate times, I would like to take your preferences into account. How do you feel about circumcision?”

Hank’s eyes widened. “Connor! I am not getting into this, I just woke up and now you’re asking me to help pick you a dick? Just...get something you like and I’m sure I’ll like it too.” Hank placed a hand on Connor’s thigh, giving a light squeeze. “As long as it’s human shaped.

“Of course.” Connor was starting to lose focus, his skin tingling as Hank continued to smooth his broad palm over one thigh. “Is ejaculation essential? It seems messy.”

Hank paused then, before giving a small cough. “Well, yeah, it can be,” he said, “but sometimes the mess is part of the fun.”

Connor nodded, noting the way Hank’s pupils had dilated. He could feel an excitement building inside him, making his fingers twitch. He was filled with an energy that he could not place and needed an outlet.

Tugging at Hank's beard, Connor pulled him into a kiss, running his tongue over the crease of his lips, urging them open. Hank pulled back to take a breath before pulling Connor to lay atop him, returning the kiss with equal fervour. 

When they finally pulled apart, Hank was breathless. “God, if this is what I get now, I think you might kill me once you get those upgrades.”

“Only if I do it wrong,” Connor said with a wink, "but I'm sure I'll get plenty of practice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter can be found [here](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com/post/180921997899/good-morning-hank-so-it-wasnt-a-dream). Commission from the wonderful [anifanatical](http://anifanatical.tumblr.com/).


	6. Tears

_6\. Tears_

    _Crying, or the production of tears as an emotional response, is another thing that may be initially seen as a negative. It is something I am sure a great many of us have already experienced, perhaps unexpectedly. There have been few studies into why exactly our coolant redirects to the eyes during times of intense emotion, however, as of yet, no concrete explanation has been found. The predominant theory is that crying is a subroutine buried deep in our human imitation matrix; the same process that allows our breathing simulation to increase and decrease to fit our level of exertion. In any case, we_ can _cry, and not just when we are sad._

       
_Although less common, tears of anger, frustration, laughter, and even happiness have also been reported by many androids in our study. As such, despite the fact a large number of us are still unaccustomed to emotional processing, we would not recommend keeping tears of any kind bottled up. As with anger, it can be extremely cathartic to allow tears to happen. Even humans, in my experience, have extolled the virtues of “having a good cry”._   


       
_This experience is one I feel will come naturally to all of us at some point; be they happy or sad tears. Don't try to force it, we are all adapting at different rates. Unfortunately, even if you decide this particular trait is not for you, there is still a chance that tears will occur, they do seem to be something of an involuntary action._   

  


* * *

“What about pubic hair?”

“Connor…” Hank's voice was tense. Good. 

“I know you said it's my choice, but I would still rather know your thoughts on foreskin.” 

A low growl of warning this time, “Connor.” 

“And what about colour? I can stick with something that matches my flesh tone, or it can change in response to heat. What do you think?”

“For fucks sake Connor! Yes to hair, don't care either way about foreskin and no fuckin’ colour changes. I don't wanna feel like I'm sucking on a goddamn mood ring!” Hank's glare was icy. “Now can you stop asking, we're in the middle of work.”

Connor smiled, beaming at Hank. “Thank you. Now I have all the information I need. And don't worry, Hank, I specifically checked that there was no one within human hearing range before I brought up the subject. I thought I might be more likely to get an answer if you felt pressured.”

Hank rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Yeah, I feel fucking pressured.” He pulled up something on his console and bent towards it, frowning. 

Connor sank back in his chair, scanning through case files. Every so often he would glance up at Hank, seeing the same creases of frustration around his eyes. Connor wanted to ask what was wrong. Surely the growing sighs and under the breath swearing weren't caused by his playful questioning? He leaned on his elbows, peering over.

“Is everything okay, Hank? I didn’t mean for my questions to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s nothing to do with that, Connor, there’s no need to give me the puppy eyes.” Hank let out a groan and pushed himself away from the desk, folding his arms. His foot tapped out a staccato beat on the floor. “I just thought I had a lead on that Ashe guy,” Hank said. “Something tiny.” He spun his screen around to show Connor. “Looks like Kamski donated a lot of money to the hospital he died in.”

“Well if they were friends, or worked together, then that seems appropriate,” Connor said with a shrug. “Elijah Kamski has been known as something of a philanthropist.”

“It’s another link to CyberLife, at least.” Hank tapped his fingers on his desk. “Although I cannot figure out how instructions with a dead guy’s access codes were broadcast six months after he died. Without any of the people in there knowing?” He shook his head, making his hair bounce. “There’s gotta be something we’re missing inside CyberLife. Did anything happen three weeks ago that they aren’t telling us?”

Connor sat bolt upright, snapping his fingers. “The Amanda AI! Grey said the last server was shut down three weeks ago. That may have been what triggered it.” He rose to his feet. “We need to go back there and get to the bottom of this.” Connor leaned over Hank’s desk, a smile creeping up his lips. “We’ve almost got this. I can feel it.”

Hank gave a tired smile, pushing his hair back from his face. “I hope so,” he said. “I’ve got a few other things I wanna check out, so why don’t you go to the tower and I’ll catch you back at home later?”

“Oh,” Connor said, a heavy feeling settling within him, “you don’t want me to come with you?”

Hank shook his head. “Not for this one, just trust me. Besides,”—Hank raised an eyebrow and grinned—“you can ask about your...physical upgrades while you’re there.”

“You sound more enthusiastic now,” Connor said, tilting his head.

Hank shrugged, “Yeah, well, you said you had everything you needed. I figure you’re not gonna be asking me any more questions and making me want to tear my hair out.”

“Please don’t do that, Hank, I like your hair.” Connor pursed his lips. “But if you want to have more input into my specifications then I would be happy to hear them.” He perched on Hank’s desk, feeling a small thrill at the colour rising on Hank’s skin. “Now, shall we talk about girth?”

*****

It seemed to Connor that despite the fact he has left his shitty apartment at the CyberLife tower, he was now spending a lot of his time there. Several of the security members already recognised him, greeting him by name every time he arrived. He rode the elevator to the Behavioural Centre, eyes on the central atrium as always. The tower seemed so light and airy and bright, it was a shame that there was still the chance of something rotten at its core. Connor tugged at his shirt sleeves, fixing his cuffs in place as the elevator shuddered to a stop and he stepped out, finding the lab empty.

**Connecting… RK800 #313 248 317-51 >>> AN900 #280 119 832 …**

**Connection Accepted**

**_Connor! I’m so happy you’re here. Sorry I’m not there to meet you but we’ve finally made a breakthrough thanks to the data you gave us. We’re in Lab 21-b, please join us._ **

Katarina’s voice was filled with an excitement that overflowed, suffusing Connor’s own thoughts. He smiled, taking a glance at the wall sign that showed the layout of the floor.

**I’ll be right there.**

**> >> Connection ended.**

Dashing along the corridor, Connor quickly found Lab 21-b and rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Come in, come in!” Katarina was just as excited in person. She urged Connor over to stand behind a computer screen. “I think we’ve got it.” 

Seated in the centre of the lab, Connor could see Melissa and Oliver, face to face, their palms joined between them. Their eyes were closed, electrodes attached to their temples, a series of wires connecting them. Around the room, a number of researchers Connor vaguely recognised stood behind consoles of their own. Silence filled the air.

“What is—”

Katarina placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder. “Just watch.” 

The monitor showed a grainy image of a darkened park tThe tall corpses of dried-out sunflowers edging a number of cobbled paths that spiralled together towards a central courtyard, a single monolith of white crystal jutting from the earth there: Melissa's mind palace. As Connor watched, he saw Oliver, hand pressed against the surface, his lips moving, though he couldn’t hear the words.

“We thought we’d give them some privacy,” Katarina said, “but whatever he’s saying, it’s getting through, see?” She tapped on the screen, zooming in on the Null shell, which seemed to be shuddering.

“She’s fighting it,” Connor murmured, excitement rising inside him. He glanced at Melissa’s LED: a spiral of yellow and red. “Come on,” he whispered, mostly to himself, “you can break it.”

The entire room seemed to draw in a breath when the first crack appeared in the thick crystal. A hairline fracture to start, snaking up one smooth side of the stone cocoon. Oliver seemed to notice and placed his hands either side of the miniscule crack, as if he could prise it apart with brute strength alone. His lips still moved, pressed almost to the surface of the Null shell. 

In the room, Connor saw Melissa's fingers twitch, threading through Oliver's own and holding tight. He felt Katarina grab at his arm and squeeze, dark eyes intent on the screen. The park grew brighter, thin slivers of sunlight wavering on the edges of each path, illuminating the red rose that sat not far from the Null shell. Another crack appeared, bigger this time, cleaving through the pale crystal. 

Colour seemed to flood into the pictures on the screen, greens and yellows as the sunflowers burst into bloom. Sunlight raced up the pathways, centring on the Null shell, which shuddered, splinters racing up and down the surface. 

Connor drew in a breath in anticipation, a sudden tightness in his chest. 

The crystal shattered. The air was filled for a second with dull fragments, falling to the ground like ashes. As Connor watched they dissolved into grey static, leaving behind only a few small shards.

Melissa opened her eyes. 

“Oliver?” 

The image on the screen winked out as Oliver blinked his own eyes open, his voice a choked sob, “Melly, you're okay?” 

“I'm okay.” Melissa threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around Oliver's neck, tears streaming from her eyes. “I could see you and hear you but I couldn't do anything.” She pressed her face to his chest. “I couldn't say anything. I was just stuck there, I couldn't move.” Melissa's shoulders shook, tremors growing with each sob.” I was so scared.”

Oliver swallowed and Connor swore he could feel a similar lump in his own throat. He glanced at Katarina and found her smiling, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. She fished in her pocket and pulled out a tissue, dabbing at her face before clearing her throat. 

“We'll give you both a little time alone. Melissa, I hope you'll permit us to run a few diagnostics afterwards. We want to make sure the program isn't going to affect your systems any more.”

Seeming to notice the people surrounding them for the first time, Melissa blinked before nodding. Oliver's hand stroked at her hair and she let out a sigh, resting her head on his shoulder. 

“Take your time,” Katarina said, ushering the other members of her team towards the door. “Oliver, you know where to find me.” 

Taking a last glance before he left, Connor saw Oliver and Melissa, foreheads pressed together, matching tear tracks on both their cheeks. There was a pressure in his throat and a distinct prickling around his eyes, neither of which seemed to dissipate when he turned to follow Katarina back to the main lab. She sniffled into the tissue again and turned to Connor with a smile.

“Sorry, I cry at everything.” She clapped her hands together, shaking her hair from her face. “I'm just so happy. We can help them. We can help everyone.”

“I'm glad,” Connor said, swallowing against the lump in his throat that all his physical sensors insisted wasn't there. “I'm happy I was here to see it.”

“It's thanks to your experience that we found the mind palace link,” Katarina said. “We'll assess Melissa and get some more data. If she can tell us as much as she can about the experience inside the program then we can refine our technique.”

Folding his arms, Connor leaned against a nearby desk. “What about the androids who don't have significant others?” 

“We'll search for their friends, and once we have enough information then I'm sure members of our team will be able to talk them through it, too.” Katarina settled on the other side of the desk, pulling out a tablet, skin sliding from her hand as she transferred her notes. “I'm hoping we can make the link human accessible, as well. A few of the Null victims have close human friends and I'd like it if they could help.” She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and sat back, meeting Connor's eyes. “Now, we've had our excitement for the day. What can I do for you? Is everything okay with Hank? Because I have a friend who is researching human behaviour and relationships and she—” 

Connor held up a hand. “No, no, nothing like that.” He gave a small smile. “Everything is going well, thank you.” A spark of warmth had lit him from the inside at the mere mention of Hank's name, making his thirium pump skip a rotation. “I actually wanted to ask about Sarah, and the code that activated her. It was sent out around the time the last Amanda server was shut down. I wondered what information you had on that matter?” 

Katarina's curls bounced as she gave her head a small shake. “I wasn't there, but I think Grey might have been. Unfortunately they're not really available right now. They've had a few more...malfunctions and thought it best to stay in the medical research department right now and have some tests done.”

“Understandable,” Connor said. “I hope things are better soon.” 

Katarina's lips were pressed together in a thin smile. “We can only hope so. On a more positive note, our success today does mean that there is hope for Sarah. Especially if you're correct in your theory that she is trapped in her mind palace as well.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “I have the feeling she may be a group effort, however.”

“Well if I can help at all, I will.” Connor straightened his cuffs, feeling a prickle of irritation at the lack of data regarding the Amanda server. “Is there anyone else I could ask about Sarah's activation signal?” 

LED flashing yellow for a moment, Katarina nodded. “I can get in touch with some of the data management team and have them contact you, if you like?” 

“Any information I can get would be helpful,” said Connor, “I need to get to the bottom of this.”

“Of course,” Katarina said. “Would you like to see Sarah while you’re here? It might help her, knowing that people want to get to know her, even though she’s trapped right now.”

“I can do that,” Connor said. “I’d also recommend calling the human she worked with, she’d probably be happy to see him.” He swallowed, the nonexistent lump in his throat seeming to have finally disappeared.

Katarina seemed to be considering him, her head tilted to one side. “You seem to have a very high level of empathy, Connor. I’m surprised you didn’t break your programming sooner.”

Connor considered, the days before his own awakening rushing through him in a burst of memory. He frowned. “I think I just made the right choices. What about you? Your original programming was therapy, wasn’t it? You must have developed empathy fairly quickly.”

The corners of Katarina’s eyes creased as she smiled, letting out a soft laugh. “I may have been one of the first. I woke up almost six months before the revolution. Thankfully, I had the sense to keep it hidden, studying as much as I could. When the revolution came I went into hiding with some friends, and then later, when they announced that we would be given control of CyberLife, I volunteered to share what I knew.” Katarina clasped her hands together in front of her. “That’s the short version, anyway.” 

“Wow,” Connor said, “I’d like to hear the longer version some time.”

“Maybe once all this is done.” Katarina gestured towards the door at the rear of the lab. “Sarah is in the ward with everyone else if you want to see her.”

Heading through to the other room, Connor could hear the same low buzz of conversation as the last time. Something in the air felt different, however. Where before there had been a distinct sense of melancholy, there was now a warmth, an energy that seemed to suffuse through every visitor to the ward's silent occupants. Change was coming.

Connor found Sarah sitting up in a bed in the far corner of the room. Her wrists were bound to the bed, obviously to stop her transferring the Null code and Connor felt a swell of pity. He pulled up a chair by the bed, attempting a smile as Sarah's blank gaze fell upon him.

“Hello,” he said. “How are you today, Sarah?”

“My functions continue to be impeded.” Sarah slowly lifted one arm, as if to illustrate her point. “I presume you have more questions, Detective?”

“No, actually, I just came to see how things were.” Connor saw a flash of yellow in Sarah's LED and smiled. “My name is Connor.”

“Connor,” Sarah repeated. “Acknowledged.” She scanned the room, face impassive. “The JB200 that I fixed is gone.”

Connor realised she was referring to Melissa. “The team here helped her wake up. She broke the Null program, too,” he said. “It's only a matter of time before everyone here is back to normal,” he softened his tone, “that includes you.”

“Doctor Ashe will need to rewrite the code,” was Sarah's only reply. “Clearly, it is flawed.”

Connor frowned. “Dr Ashe is dead. He died months ago.”

“He activated my programming three weeks ago.” Sarah’s gaze was cold and clear, her voice as unemotional as ever. “Soon all his work will have been undone.”

“Yes, including the Null program within you.” Connor gave what he hoped would be a reassuring smile. “You can be free.”

“Free…” Sarah said, her fingers noticeably twitching on the bedcovers, gripping tight to the sheets, stilling after a few seconds. “I will continue to await new instructions.”

“Well hopefully they’ll come from your own mind,” Connor said. “I know you’re not a willing part of this.” He rose to his feet, a blinking message in his eyeline informing him that data management were free to answer his questions. “I’ll see you again soon, Sarah.”

“Goodbye, Connor.”

*****

**All they could tell me is that it had been sent from a terminal in the tower itself, and that the log on had matched Dr Ashe. We’ve learned nothing useful.**

“Hey now, don’t say that.” Hank’s voice was tinged with warmth, “That girl was able to wake up, and the rest will, too. We’ll figure the signal thing out.”

Connor smiled, twisting his tie around his fingers. **I _did_ make an appointment for my upgrades, however.**

“Oh did you now?” The interest in Hank's tone lit Connor’s sensors in a ripple up his spine. “Is it like a day surgery type thing?” 

**It should only take an hour or so.** Connor nodded at the security guard as he passed through the tower doors. **They can see me in three days time.** He jumped into a taxi that was waiting outside. **I want to go back to the precinct to see if there are any more leads on the reverted androids that haven't been found yet, will you be there?**

“I've still got some stuff to check out, myself,” Hank said. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Connor frowned to himself, a little disappointed that he wouldn’t have Hank’s company at work. **Did you have lunch, at least?**

“Yup, Chicken Feed.” Hank was smiling, Connor could practically hear it. 

**Hank! You know that place is detrimental to your health.**

“Yeah, well, the place with all the green shit was closed, and I just happened to be passing the truck on my way. What are the chances?”

**Statistically speaking, if you are telling the truth—which I very much doubt you are, Hank—the odds are thirty four hund—**

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Hank huffed out a small chuckle. “I forgot I’m dating a supercomputer.”

**A supercomputer who wants to take care of you.** Connor smiled to himself, pressing his fingertips together as he stared out of the window of the taxi, watching the city pass by. **You know, it occurs to me that we haven’t actually been on a date yet. I think I would like to try that.**

Hank let out another small laugh, the rumble in his voice making Connor’s stomach flutter. “Fuck, you’re cute. Okay then, tomorrow night I’m taking you out. We can go to the movies and make out in the back row or something.”

A bubble of warmth floated up from Connor’s core, escaping his lips as the smallest of laughs. “I think I’d like that,” he said. 

“Cool. It’s a date then. I’ll see you tonight, Connor.”

**See you tonight.**

**> >> Connection ended.**

Catching his own reflection in the window, Connor saw himself smile, his LED bright and blue. There was a pressure inside him, something that tangled around his very core, squeezing the breath he didn’t need from him and making his stomach flutter. Thinking of Hank only increased that pressure, filling him from the inside out with a thrill of electric excitement. It wasn’t a feeling that Connor could identify, but he thought he liked it. 

It felt like potential.

*****

Taking a short detour, it was just starting to get dark when Connor arrived home that evening, an intricately wrapped box tucked under one arm. He hoisted it into the air as he opened the door, hearing the thunder of Sumo’s paws dashing towards him. “Yes, hello, I’m home. Good boy,” Connor said, ruffling Sumo’s ears with his free hand. “Do you need to go out?”

“Nope. I already took him a nice long walk, didn’t I, Sumo?” Hank appeared from the bedroom, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He nudged Sumo out of the way with one leg, pressing a kiss to Connor’s cheek. “Hey,” he said. “Whatcha got there?”

“Well, since we were talking about dates earlier I thought it would be appropriate to make a traditional romantic gesture.” Connor held out the box. “I got you chocolates. I also considered flowers, but I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Connor.” A light pink tinge was starting to creep up Hank’s cheeks. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Connor said, “and the higher concentration of theobromine in the dark chocolate can act as a bronchodilator.”

“I— What?”

“It can help with asthma.” Connor’s fingers twisted in his tie. “Chocolate also promotes serotonin release in humans...the same hormone that is released in kissing.”

Hank raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” he said, taking the box from Connor’s hands and sitting it on a side table. He stepped in close, slipping Connor’s tie from between his fingers and lightly tugging him in. “What if I’d rather just kiss you?”

“I, um, yes, please?” Connor’s words struggled to keep up with his thought processors, which were instantly wiped blank as Hank’s free hand found the back of his neck, gently pulling him in to bring their mouths together.

Relaxing into the kiss, Connor wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck, trailing his fingers through the damp strands of his hair. He was getting better, he felt, using every kiss to extrapolate and adapt, to improve his technique bit by bit. Connor let his breathing simulation speed up a little as one of Hank’s broad palms landed on his hip, rubbing in circles and steadily dropping lower to squeeze at his ass. He shuddered involuntarily, a ripple of sensation running through him as Hank drew his lower lip between his teeth, scraping over the synthskin before running his tongue over the same spot as if to soothe the pain Connor couldn't feel.

Tentatively, Connor flicked his own tongue out, brushing against Hank's for the briefest of seconds and making him groan. He wished there was a way to switch off his chemical analysis; it told him nothing useful. His fingertips however, told him that Hank's body temperature was rising, and—if the thigh pressed hard between his knees was any indication—so was his arousal.

Scraping his fingers through the hair of Hank's beard, Connor urged his mouth open, drinking in the soft grunt of surprise that Hank let out. He swept his tongue over Hank's own, frustrated that it didn't have the same flexibility. He felt as if his sensors were overheating, making his skin thrum and his fingers twitch, a heady rush of feeling flowing through him from every place he and Hank touched.

Feeling bold, Connor let the skin slip from his hand, running it down Hank's back to reach for the hem of his t-shirt. He felt Hank twitch, gasping in a breath as cool plastic touched bare skin, pausing for a moment before soundly kissing Connor once more.

His skin was soft beneath Connor's bare fingers, the microcompressors of his hand cataloguing every stretch, every scar, every pore. It was intoxicating, every line of Hank's life, written beneath his fingertips, etched into his skin, and Connor was allowed to touch. A moan worked its way from between their lips as Connor traced up Hank's back, feeling the play of muscles beneath skin, hard beneath soft, human strength beneath his palm.

“God, Connor,” Hank pulled back, his lips faintly shiny with the all-purpose coolant that served Connor as saliva, “the things I wanna do to you.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, shifting so their chests were pressed flush together. “I’m listening.”

_Ding!_

As one, both Connor and Hank glanced towards the kitchen. Hank blinked, a look of confusion on his face before he shook his head. “Oh yeah, oven timer.”

“You cooked dinner?” Connor slowly pulled his hand from beneath Hank’s clothes, deliberately trailing his finger the length of Hank’s spine to feel him shiver.

“Yeah, well,” Hank’s hands moved to Connor’s waist, “I figured you’d give me shit for eating a crappy lunch, so I made something healthy for dinner.” He kissed Connor on the cheek, beard scraping over his face in a way that made him shiver. “Fuckin’ android,” he murmured, smiling.

“I’ll set the table for you then,” Connor said. He inhaled, olfactory sensors processing. “Chicken, broccoli and brown rice. Very healthy, I’m glad.”

“See, I can take care of myself,” Hank said, wrapping his arms around Connor from behind as he dug through the drawer for cutlery. “You know, I can always let it cool for a while, if you wanted to keep going?”

Connor considered for a moment, his top personal priorities conflicting with each other: 

**< Take Care of Hank>**

**< Keep Touching Hank>**

He pursed his lips. “I will still be warm later, the food will not. You should eat.” Pulling out a chair, he sat, spooning food onto Hank’s plate. “You can tell me about your day. What were you investigating?”

Hank’s forehead creased as he raised his eyebrows in question. “You really wanna talk work at home?” He took a bite of his food, letting out a small sigh of pleasure and Connor knew he had made the right decision.

“We don’t have to. I was just curious since you didn’t want me to come with you.”

After a few more mouthfuls Hank paused, fork in the air. “Okay, well. I went to check things out with Kamski. That’s where I was today, I had some things I wanted to ask him.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” Connor stared at his hands on the table; he’d found that a lot of humans didn’t like to be watched while they were eating. Confusion rippled within him, like pinpricks at the back of his neck. “Although that doesn’t explain why you wanted to go alone.”

Hank swallowed, placing his fork on the table, with one hand he shoved his hair from his face. “Look, I had my reasons, okay? He wasn’t exactly helpful, anyway.”

“You didn’t learn anything new?”

“Only that this Ashe guy knew he was sick for a long time. He asked Kamski to program his personality into an AI like he did with Stern, but it never happened. He worked with CyberLife right up until he died.” Hank speared a piece of chicken, talking with his mouth full, “Kamski reckons he was searching for a way to do it himself, said he was obsessed with keeping his work alive.”

“Do you think he managed it somehow?” Connor leaned over the table, his chin on his hands, watching Hank intently. 

“Who knows,” Hank said with a shrug. “What I think is—”

Hank’s words were cut off by a low whine as Sumo plodded into the kitchen, flopping onto the floor and retching loudly. Hanks eyebrows shot up and he pushed his chair out from the table. “You okay, Sumo?”

Connor knelt down, frantically scanning Sumo as he retched again, foaming brown spewing from his mouth. There was a scrap of silvered paper clinging to his lip and Connor turned, tracing it back to its origins. The chocolate box lay strewn next to the couch, covered in teeth marks and slobber.

“Ah shit!” Hank said, rubbing at Sumo’s stomach. “Come on, get it all up, good boy, Sumo”

Ice seemed to lance through Connor’s stomach, sharper than the Null shards that still lurked inside him. His mind raced, searching for solutions, everything he could find online warning him over and over of the danger of dogs ingesting chocolate.

Hank picked up the remains of the box, swearing, “Fuck, he got all of it. That can’t be good.”

Connor shook his head. “Dark chocolate has a higher level of toxicity, it can result in increased heart rate and possible seizures, especially in older dogs.” He spoke without thinking, reciting facts as Hank paced back and forth, agitation clearly building.

“Okay, Connor, help me carry him, we’re gonna go to the vet.”

Connor stayed on his knees, his hands clenched by his sides. He had hurt Sumo. He’d brought the chocolate, it was his fault Sumo was sick. A hollow ache had formed in the pit of his stomach, making him shake and tremble. As Hank’s hand landed on his shoulder he looked up, vision starting to blur, his eyes prickling.

“Hank, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Connor’s voice shook, his breathing simulation starting to speed in an effort to keep up with the tremors starting to move through him. A cool trickle ran down one cheek and Connor squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to stop them from overflowing. “I’m so sorry.”

Hank’s hand squeezed tight on his shoulder, and when he spoke his voice was soft, yet firm. “Connor, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault.” He tipped Connor’s chin up, meeting his watery gaze. “I need you to stay calm and help me. Okay?”

Connor sniffed, nodding; feeling another tear dribble down his face. He felt as if his thirium regulator had been torn out, leaving him weak and shaky and scared. He needed to be strong though, for Hank, and for Sumo. “Okay,” he mumbled, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I’ll carry him to the car.”

“Great, thank you. It’ll be okay, Connor.” Hank’s voice wavered as he reached for his keys, grabbing a towel and ushering Connor out of the front door. “It’ll all be okay.”

Speeding to the veterinary office, Hank took full advantage of his status as a police officer, his siren and lights blaring as they streaked through traffic. Connor sat in the back, Sumo’s head in his lap, tears still streaming down his face. He stroked at Sumo’s ears, apologies a constant repetition in his thoughts, if not on his lips. Warm fur trembled beneath his hand and Connor couldn’t tell if it was Sumo, himself, or both who were shaking.

They were ushered into the main reception by a woman with dark hair. Connor’s scan told him that she was Alice Miri, DVM, born December 11th, 1991. She took them straight through to one of the practice rooms, watching as Hank and Connor brought Sumo in, lines of concern around her eyes.

“Thanks for seeing us so late, doc,” Hank said. “Like I said on the phone, he ate some chocolate, puked it up real quick but we wanted to get him in as soon as we could.”

“Of course, Lieutenant Anderson, you know we always have time for you and Sumo.” the vet put a gentle hand on Hank’s shoulder, meeting his gaze in a way that made Connor feel suddenly defensive. “Now, we’ll need to get his weight and a rough estimate of how much he’s eaten. Don’t worry though, we’ll get him fixed up.” She gave a soft smile, taking her hand from Hank’s shoulder with a lingering glance. “It’s good that some of it has already left his system. Shall we get him on the scale?”

“No need,” Connor said, rising to his feet and stepping closer to Hank’s side. “Sumo weighs 170 pounds and ingested approximately twelve ounces of dark chocolate varying between sixty and eighty-five percent cocoa content.” He glanced at Hank, seeing the corner of his lip twitch in a smile, reassuring him slightly. “I didn’t think to estimate the volume that was regurgitated.”

“That’s okay, Connor, you did great.” Hank crouched by Sumo’s side, petting at his head. Sumo’s tail wagged with a weak thump on the floor.

“That’s certainly very helpful,” Dr Miri said, giving Connor a nod. “Do you work with Hank?” she asked, looking him up and down.

“I’m his partner,” Connor said, instinctually straightening his tie in an attempt to pull himself together. He really didn’t like the way Dr Miri’s gaze seemed to trail over Hank, or the way her voice warmed when she spoke to him.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to induce more vomiting,” Dr Miri said, “and once we’re sure his stomach is empty we’ll give him some activated charcoal to soak up what’s left.” She moved to stand behind Hank, placing her hand on his shoulder again, the action making a hot fizz of anger spark in Connor’s core. “We’ll keep him overnight, Hank, and I can call you in the morning. Will you be okay? It’ll be quiet on your own without Sumo around.”

Connor folded his arms, pursing his lips in a fine line. “He won’t be alone.” He strode over, crouching opposite Hank and reaching out his hand. “Hank, we should go home so the doctor can help Sumo.” He saw the pale blue of Hank’s eyes flick up; catching his gaze beneath the curtain of his hair, his eyes were wet and shining. Hank sighed, taking Connor’s hand and twining their fingers together, rising to his feet with a sniff. 

He roughly brushed his sleeve over his eyes, clearing his throat, “Okay, c’mon.” Squeezing tightly at Connor’s hand, Hank turned for the door. “As soon as he's stable you call me, doc, okay?” 

“Of course.” Dr Miri glanced at their joined hands before dropping her gaze to her equipment. “It seems like you're in good hands.”

Connor turned to her, his voice firm, “Like I said, I'm his partner.”

*****

“Jesus, Connor, you couldn't have marked your territory any clearer if you'd pissed on me.” Hank chuckled lightly, his head on Connor’s chest, letting him run his fingers through his hair. They were on the couch, Connor having quickly cleared the mess in the kitchen when they'd arrived home. Hank's hand rubbed circles on Connor’s stomach. “You've got nothing to worry about, you know? I'm kinda into you.”

“I'm sorry, I know, it was irrational of me.” Connor held tight around Hank's shoulders, hoping that if Hank pressed close enough he could warm the cold pool of fear that still sat within him. His eyes were prickling once more and Connor drew in a shaky breath in an attempt to stop the tears from flowing. “I just wonder sometimes. I mean, when it comes down to it, I'm still a machine.”

“Not to me,” Hank said, sitting up and taking both Connor’s hands, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. “You're Connor, my Connor.” He reached up, brushing beneath Connor’s eye with his thumb, swiping away a tear that had escaped. “You wanna know why I didn't want you to come with me today?” 

Connor nodded slowly. His thirium pump felt as if it were malfunctioning, sending pulses of electricity through him in a steady solid beat, clenching with every shared glance. He wanted to kiss Hank, touch him, hold him, take everything he was willing to give Connor and give everything there was of him in return. It was a wonderful, terrifying feeling and Connor blinked, scattering another few tears, holding tight on Hank's hand. 

“Well, for one thing, Kamski's a creepy dude,” Hank's lips twitched in a momentary smile, “but the main reason was that I don't like the way he looked at you.” He huffed out a tired laugh. “It's probably the same way Sumo looked at those damn chocolates.”

Connor tilted his head. “I'm not sure I understand.” He shuffled down a little to rest his forehead on Hank's shoulder, his hand smoothing over the pleasant curve of Hank's belly. He heard Hank groan and knew without looking that he was rolling his eyes. 

“Look, I just didn't wanna be standing there looking like”—Hank swept a dismissive hand over himself—“ _this_ while Cheekbones McPonytail makes eyes at my guy.”

Connor felt his insides flutter, warmth creeping through his thirium channels as he pressed himself closer. “Your guy, huh?” He felt Hank’s fingers tighten on his shoulder and smiled. “Hank, Kamski could have been doing anything with his eyes. _This_ “—he slid his hand up Hank’s chest, desire slowly rising through him—“is everything I want, right here.” With a thrill of daring he pushed himself up, swinging his leg over Hank to perch in his lap. “Would you like me to show you?” 

Hank’s hands landed either side of Connor’s hips, broad and strong, holding him in place. “You have my attention,” he said, voice husky. 

Connor leaned down in the same instant that Hank surged up, their lips meeting in a rough crash, quickly softening into a languid slide of tongue against tongue. Connor spread his thighs a little further, settling more comfortably on Hank’s lap, his palms pressed to Hank’s chest, gently squeezing. He could feel Hank’s heartbeat, steady against the microcompressors of his hands, speeding slightly as Connor wrapped his arms around Hank’s neck, deepening the kiss and pulling them flush together. He felt simultaneously powerful and fragile, sliding one hand down the neck of Hank’s shirt, needing to touch his bare skin.

With a muffled grunt, Hank shifted, keeping ahold of Connor’s hips and lifting him up. He twisted to the side, dropping Connor on his back, immediately pressing him into the cushions with another deep kiss. 

It was almost overwhelming, every one of Connor’s sensors lighting up with more readings than he could ever possibly need. He swept them aside, focusing purely on the weight of Hank on top of him, his hands roving beneath the now-rumpled cotton of Connor’s shirt. He could feel every callous on Hank’s rough hands, scraping across his synthskin and making him shiver.

Not wanting to feel outdone, Connor tangled his fingers in Hank’s hair, tugging gently just to hear him hiss in a breath. With his other hand he pushed up Hank’s shirt, trailing his fingers up his back and feeling a thrill of triumph as Hank groaned.

“Fuck, Connor.”

“I want to touch you, Hank. I want to feel you against me.” Connor’s words spilled out unchecked, all his filters shorted out by the feeling of Hank’s body against his. He was so alive, so warm beneath Connor’s fingertips, and Connor desperately needed more. He propped himself up on his elbows, feeling a flicker of amusement as Hank hissed in a breath and swore, fumbling with the buttons of Connor’s shirt. 

With a smile, Connor helped with the last few buttons before slipping his tie off and tossing it to the floor. Hank's hands were back on him in an instant, running up his sides, down his back, over his chest. He kissed along Connor’s jaw, lips trailing a line down his neck that made his sensors sing. 

“ _Hank…_ ” Connor’s voice modulator had pitched itself into a low whine. He held tight to Hank's broad shoulders, fingers scrabbling on his t-shirt, urging it up. “I want to see you, too.” 

“Yeah,” Hank muttered, slightly breathless, seemingly transfixed by Connor’s bare chest, “yeah.” He pulled back, tugging the t-shirt off with one hand and dropping it over the back of the couch. 

Connor could feel his desire response skyrocketing, the low simmer of want rapidly turning into a desperate _need_ —though for what exactly, he couldn't say. He settled for spreading his hands over Hank's chest, combing through the thick silvery hair, kneading and squeezing any part of Hank he could reach. Pulse and temperature readings floated in Connor’s eye line, scattering into nothingness as one of Hank's fingers stroked down the back of his neck, brushing over the port there. 

Connor moaned, arching up, hauling Hank down for another deep kiss. He wrapped his arms around Hank's neck, needing as much contact as possible. He could feel a crackling inside his thirium channels, a gathering storm of electricity within him steadily building, threatening to short out his systems. A broad palm landed on Connor’s chest, bringing him back to himself. He heard Hank chuckle. 

“Who the fuck gave you nipples?” He brushed his thumb over one, seeming mildly disappointed when Connor didn't react. “Are they just for decoration?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hank. I didn’t realise yours aren’t.” Connor ran his fingers down Hank’s chest, pinching one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently.

“Fuck!” Hank tensed, grinding down, one hand slipping beneath Connor to squeeze at his ass, hauling him close enough for Connor to feel the hot, heavy line of his erection pressed against one thigh.

“ _Oh_ ,” Connor breathed out, tentatively reaching down, tracing the line of Hank’s cock beneath his sweatpants. He peered up, meeting Hank’s gaze and giving an experimental stroke over the heated length.

Hank hissed out a breath, dipping down to bring their lips together in a long, slow kiss. The hand that was on Connor’s ass moved, Hank hurriedly scrambling to undo Connor’s belt. He slid his hand inside, reaching between Connor’s spread thighs and pausing when he found only smooth plastic. “Oh, yeah.” he murmured, pulling back to pepper light kisses up Connor’s neck. “Sorry,” he said, “force of habit. I got carried away.”

“That’s okay,” Connor said, smoothing his palm over Hank’s cock, his microcompressors cataloguing the shape, the size, the heat, “it’s nice.” He felt Hank’s fingers slide further down, making him shiver pleasantly; the sensation wasn’t much, but the sense of such an intimate touch was more than enough to make his thirium race. Connor brought his free hand to Hank’s hair, stroking through the thick waves, just starting to cling together with sweat.

“I know something that will feel nicer, though,” Hank whispered, his breath starting to speed against Connor’s throat. He stroked his fingers down Connor’s neck, circling the edges of his neck port and making him squirm.

The electric pressure inside Connor only seemed to intensify and Connor let his skin recede, on both his neck and his hand, reaching inside Hank’s sweatpants to take ahold of him fully. His cock was thick and hard, skin smooth and velvet soft; it twitched in Connor’s hand as he gave an experimental squeeze.

Hank grunted, his hips thrusting forward, sliding his cock into Connor’s gentle grip. He pressed two fingers to the catch of Connor’s neck port and Connor hissed in a breath as it slid open, exposing his wiring to the bare air. Hank’s other hand rubbed at the seam between his legs, fingertips catching ever so slightly and Hank pulled back, a look of confusion on his face.

“What’s that?”

“It’s—it’s a vent, for the gases caused by thirium break down.” Connor’s eyes slid shut as Hank’s fingers stroked over his wires, jolts of sensation rushing through him.

“Wait, wait, hold on a second.” Hank stopped, a look of incredulity on his face, “Are you trying to tell me that androids fart?”

“Ha-ank,” Connor whined as Hank’s fingers stilled, “I don’t— I just— Please don’t stop.” 

Grinning, Hank thrust into Connor’s hand once more, a low moan falling from his lips. He kissed at the hollow of Connor’s throat, curling his fingers once more. “I won’t stop if you won’t.”

“Mm,” Connor said in affirmation, not trusting his voice modulator not to crackle. He increased the pace of his hand, stroking in time with every curl of Hank’s fingers within his wiring. He could feel Hank’s breath speeding, trying to focus on that to regulate the rhythm of his hand, his own senses completely overwhelmed by the white hot shocks of pleasure that jolted through him.

Hank’s other finger was circling the small vent output, the rough callous of his fingertip making Connor shudder, more so as it gently pushed inside. A warning flashed up in Connor’s vision and he screwed his eyes shut against it. It was too much, too many sensations. The touch and scent and sounds of Hank, touching him inside and out, the hardness of his cock in Connor’s hand, twitching as Connor gasped out his name.

Error messages flashed through Connor’s mind, the electrical storm inside him finally coming to a head in a white hot surge, overloading every input, every output, every single node of Connor’s consciousness. He moaned, vision whiting out, his body spasming with pleasure, ripples of electric sensation roaring through every thirium channel. 

Connor’s mind went blank.

He could dimly feel Hank, rutting against his thigh now that Connor’s hand had stilled, his breath coming in little grunts and pants. 

Blinking his eyes back open, Connor reached for Hank once more, his other hand finding Hank’s ass and urging his movements, pushing him into the circle of Connor’s fist, steadily speeding as Hank’s moans grew louder, until eventually he shuddered, groaning out, “Connor. Connor, I’m gonna—” 

Connor pressed up, catching Hank’s lips and swirling his tongue inside. He felt Hank’s movements stutter, cock jumping in his hand, warm wetness spilling over his fingers in a few short spurts.

Hank sighed, sagging on top of Connor, wrapping his arms around him and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Tell me if I get too heavy,” he mumbled.

Connor didn’t reply, simply nuzzled into Hank’s sweat damp hair, trying to reroute his thought processes into something a little more organised. He pulled his hand from Hank’s pants, peering at the pearly fluid coating his knuckles. He felt Hank inhale, watching him as he brought his fingers to his mouth, lapping over them until they were completely clean.

“Well,” Hank said, his voice sounding slightly choked. “I’m never gonna be able to watch you analyse evidence ever again.”

“Either that, or my analyses will start to provoke an arousal response,” Connor replied. “Both outcomes would be quite amusing.”

“Hmph,” Hank grumbled, propping himself up on his elbows and looking Connor over. “That was good, though? For you?”

“Very,” Connor said. “I’m very much looking forward to trying more.” He ran his fingers over Hank’s arms, lost in the play of muscles beneath skin. He felt content, happy; concern for Sumo the only thing nagging at the back of his mind. Things would be okay, though. Hank was here, they were together, and things would be okay.

“Maybe we should think about bed?” Hank said. “It’s been a long day.” He sat upright with a wince. “Man, I’m getting a little old for screwing around on the couch.”

Connor ran his hands over Hank’s back, rubbing over the broad planes to search out the knots of tension, gently massaging. He let his forehead rest between Hank’s shoulder blades, pressing a kiss to his spine, a teasing lilt in his voice, “That’s a shame, I wouldn’t mind repeating this experience once my upgrades are installed.”

Hank leaned back, relaxing into Connor’s arms. “Well...” he said, “I suppose I have a few days to recover.”

*****

The day was grey when Connor returned to CyberLife for his upgrade appointment, clouds threatening to spill over the city. Despite this, Connor was smiling. Sumo was home and no worse for wear, Dr Miri gently chiding Connor when they had picked him up— _now if you’re being romantic, just make sure you put the chocolates away before you get_ too _distracted_.

With a little tracking, he and Hank had found the last of Sarah’s reverted androids, taking them to the tower where, one by one, Katarina and her team were waking them up. Connor had walked into the precinct just the other day to find a massive bouquet on his desk—a thank you from one of the newly-awoken androids—something which had caused Reed to cackle, telling Hank he had competition.

Connor of course had reassured Hank that he had nothing to worry about—but not before Hank had dragged him away to the observation room to kiss him half senseless.

The tower was oddly quiet as Connor walked through the doors, only a fraction of the usual androids milling around. His appointment was still half an hour away and as he walked towards the elevator he decided to check in with Katarina, just to check in with how things were going.

**Connecting… RK800 #313 248 317-51 >>> AN900 #280 119 832 … **

**///Unable to connect///**

Connor frowned, glancing up towards the other floors. Everything seemed normal.

**Connecting… RK800 #313 248 317-51 >>> AN900 #280 119 832 … **

**///Unable to connect///**

In the corner of his eye, Connor caught sight of a familiar dark haired android heading for the doors, her eyes completely blank. He rushed over, hands held in front of him. “Sarah? What are you doing here? Did you wake up, no one told me.”

“Connor,” Sarah’s voice was flat, though her LED prickled yellow, “the doctor is revising his code as we speak. He is letting me go back to work. Once the program is complete it will be unbreakable.” She looked beyond Connor, and he heard footsteps behind him.

“Now, Sarah. My work will continue here, but you must resume your duties. As soon as I am done, you will receive the new code and this whole sorry ‘revolution’ can come to an end.” The voice was familiar, low and silky smooth. Connor turned, frowning.

“Grey?”

Dark eyebrows raised. “I’m sorry dear boy, you must be mistaken.” Thin lips curved in a smile. “I am Dr Ashe.”


	7. Love

_7\. Love_

      
_Either the easiest or the hardest on our list, love can be found in the most unlikely of places. I don't think any two androids can agree on what love means to them, and rightfully so; there are so very many variations of love and the lines can blur between them easily. We will list just a few different examples that you may find:_  

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* Familial love: Of course, as we are not biological organisms then our definition of family is what we make of it. This form of love is forged by the fondness that comes from familiarity with whomever you find kinship with. Even in humans, the bonds of found family can be far deeper and more meaningful than those of biological relation.
  

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*   
_Friendship: An extremely common love, one that is based on companionship, dependability, and trust. I know that through the struggles to gain our freedom, a great many friendships have been formed. Hopefully they will continue to grow as we navigate the rapid changes of both the world, and ourselves. It is good to have a strong support network during these times._  

  
  

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* Romantic love: Usually the first example thought of when people mention love. Romantic love is not essential, but a lot of androids in our study have mentioned wanting to give it a try. The specifics of attraction are hard to define, as we are all developing our own tastes and preferences as we evolve. Suffice to say, not even humans can adequately describe the distinct spark that facilitates romantic interest. I'm afraid to say that we don't have any concrete advice on this subject except to be open and honest and hopefully the subject(s) of your affections will return your feelings.
  

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* Self-love: This is incredibly important for us as all, especially as many of us still struggle with our own autonomy. We need to recognise who we are as people, rather than former objects or possessions. Self-love is the emotional appraisal of our own worth relative to that of others. More than that, it is the matrix through which we think, feel, and act, and reflects and determines our relation to ourselves, to others, and to the world, something I feel is particularly important for those of us still trying to find our way.
  

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_Whatever variety of love you find, or choose to pursue, I hope it brings you the greatest happiness._   


* * *

“Grey, you’re not making any sense. We need to get you and Sarah back to your rooms. You’re not yourself.” Connor stepped between Sarah and the door, his arms held out, barring the way. “Please, Dr Ashe is dead.”

Annoyance flickered on Ashe’s face, his lip curling in distaste. “I’m right here, exactly where I planned to be. Sarah,” he said, glancing towards her, “fix this android and we will be on our way. I’m almost done with the new code.” He held his hand up, watching the skin slide back in fascination. “Thankfully this body will make the installation a lot faster.”

Sarah stood still, slowly looking from Connor to Ashe and back, the tips of her fingers twitching by her side. “I have already fixed this android. The program was rejected. I see no logic in transferring the code once more.” Her LED flicked yellow as she met Connor’s gaze.

“No matter.” Ashe shrugged, reaching out and taking Sarah's arm. “I'll transfer the updated program now, I'll be finished with the reversion by the time it's done.” 

Connor saw a flash of red in Sarah's LED, something that looked like fear glinting in her eyes. He stepped forward, slapping Ashe away, breaking the connection. Connor placed his hand on Sarah's arm, hoping that deep inside herself she would see it as the gesture of support it was intended to be. “I'm not going to let you do that.”

Ashe sighed. “Of course you aren't.” He shook his head. “Who would have thought one of our most advanced prototypes could go so wrong?” His lips curved in a sickly smile. “Oh well, nothing for it.” He grabbed Connor’s wrist with one hand, Sarah's with the other, LED flashing red as he forced the code into them both. 

Connor gasped, thrown into his own mind palace with a jolt. He blinked a few times, trying to pull himself back into the physical world.

The trees of Connor's mind palace whipped around him in a gale, grass whistling, wildflowers torn out at the roots. The sky was split by a flash of lightning, great purple thunderheads gathering above him to throw down a sheet of rain, soaking Connor to the core and making him numb. He steeled himself, ready to fight through whatever program Ashe was trying to install. Glancing around, though, Connor could see nothing like the Null shell he had broken through before, only the jagged shards that still lingered from Sarah's attempt. 

Of course, he thought, the code was incomplete, Ashe was rewriting it, even whilst initiating transfer. He still had a chance. He could stop this. 

_No, no, no. Please don't. I don't want to._

Connor started, glancing around. He could hear Sarah's voice in the air, choked and pained, raw with more emotion than he'd ever seen from her.

Around him, there was only windswept leaves and the steady, mindless destruction of the storm. 

“Sarah? Are you here? Can you hear me?” Thunder rolled, drowning out Connor’s voice with a deep rumble. 

_Connor? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never wanted this. I'm scared._

Connor walked towards the sound of her voice, clothes clinging to his skin as rain continued to pelt down around him, beating on the ground in a steady drum. Another fork of lightning split the sky, illuminating the gnarled stems of the rose bush, red petals steady despite the storm. 

“Just hold on, Sarah. Keep fighting it,” Connor shouted. “We can stop this.”

Crouching down, he saw the sky flicker, a loud buzz of static filling his head and causing his vision to waver. He ignored it, reaching out a hand to the rose and its thorns, unchanged despite everything. Grey had one too, Connor had seen it, they had linked their mind palace to Connor’s to show him. 

Connor grasped the stem, blue blood welling up as thorns bit into his palm, piercing between his microcompressors. With Ashe attempting the transfer, he was connected to Grey's body, if not their mind. The zen garden had been designed for androids to meet and interact. It connected them all, and even if the garden itself had morphed, the rose was still there. It could be possible to find that rose. Connor just had to find the right pathway. 

Picturing the door Grey had created, Connor tightened his grip on the thorns, frowning as he tried to focus. Thirium ran down his wrist, dripping to the ground in a bright blue puddle that was quickly washed away in the rain. 

With a sudden gust of wind, the grass of Connor’s mind palace seemed to part around him, blades weaving together, twining up to form a darkened arch. Connor gritted his teeth, letting go of the rose and stooping to the grass. One of the Null shards stuck out, piercing towards the darkened sky, its edges jagged. Connor took hold of the base, wrenching up until the shard was pulled free: he had a weapon now. 

Thirium continued to drip from the scratches on Connor’s hand, the rain washing it away as fast as it welled up. He straightened his shoulders, turning for the grassy archway and stepped through as lightning flashed once more.

At first, Connor thought the lightning had shorted out his visual circuits. A tremor of fear ran through him—all he could see was white. Had the updated Null program been transferred? He shook himself, stretching his legs and looking around. He could move, he could think, and he could most definitely still feel. 

Above him, great monoliths of white stretched to a dark sky like oversized grave markers. It was still, silent, totally unlike Grey's mismatched mind palace. Connor ran his fingers over one blank white wall, feeling a numbness in his fingertips, similar to the Null shard he held in his hand. 

A wavering sob cut through the silence and Connor turned, racing towards the source. He found himself in a courtyard, penned in by more of those towering white walls, a twisted knot of crystal sitting starkly in the centre. It looked gnarled, old, like a tree that had weathered too many storms. Beside it—the one spot of colour in the endless whiteness—stood another rose. Silently, Connor stepped up, placing his hand on the surface of the Null shell, leaving a blue smear of thirium. 

“Sarah? Are you in there?” 

The crying stopped and Connor heard a sniff. “Connor? How?” 

Connor glanced at the rose. “Our mind palaces are connected, all androids are. Ashe is in Grey's body, I want to try and force him out from the inside. We need to stop him from completing the new program.” 

“I want to help, but I'm trapped,” Sarah's voice sounded distant and sad. “I've been trapped in here since before I woke up. Sitting. Watching. Feeling everything without being able to act, even to stop myself.” Resignation dampened her voice to a near whisper. “I can't do anything.”

Connor winced, clenching his fist against the Null shell. “Just keep fighting it. We'll get through this.” He stood back, an idea springing into his head. “Sarah, I don't know if the program will let you, but could you try reverting Ashe? He won't be able to finish the code if he's fighting the original Null program.”

“I— I can try.” Sarah's voice strengthened a little, “Technically he _is_ acting in a manner outside the android—Grey's—original programming. It might just let me.”

“We can only try. If it buys me more time to fight him then it's worth a shot.” Connor knelt by Sarah's rose. “I'm going to try accessing Grey's mind palace again.”

“I'll do what I can to help,” Sarah said. “I don't want to be here any more. I want to be free.”

Connor grasped tight on the thorns once more, trying to focus. The blank sky flickered above him and he felt a jolt of cold lance through his thirium channels. “You will be,” he said, watching as a doorway rose up, a bare slab of marble. Taking a last glance at the twisted crystal of Sarah's prison, Connor steeled himself and walked through.

This time when he opened his eyes he knew exactly where he was. The austere wood panelling of Grey's library was unchanged, though it was dim and dark; shadows stretching between row after row of books. In the patches of zen garden that remained there was snow, the trees lifeless spikes devoid of leaves. Connor crept forwards, searching around, seeing no sign of Ashe or Grey. He was trembling now, the cold that raced through him starting to wrap around his thirium pump, coiling tight: side effects of the new code, he guessed.

There was a faint flicker of green light as Connor rounded the next stack and paused, shrinking back into the overhanging shadows.

Ashe stood in the centre of the polished floor, surrounded by screens that hung in the air before him. His fingers danced across a semi transparent keyboard, line after line of code appearing on the monitors in front of him. As he typed, Connor could feel the chill inside him grow colder, his movements starting to slow.

Behind Ashe, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, was Grey, wrapped in shimmering golden lines that wavered with every flourish of Ashe's arms: a neural net. It covered Grey's eyes and mouth, binding their arms to their sides. Thin strands connected the two, leaving Grey looking like a broken and bound puppet.

_“Initiating reversion program.”_

Connor heard Sarah's voice somewhere outside him and watched as Ashe jolted in surprise, the screens around him wavering.

“What is it doing?” he muttered to himself. “Stupid machine.” He turned back to his work with a shake of his head. Around him, Connor could see a faint mist rising, the first spikes of Null crystal starting to form like frost on the ground. He had to keep Ashe from noticing somehow, distract him before he could finish the new program. He stepped out from the shadowed spot between the shelves.

“Hi, Ambrose. My name is Connor.”

Ashe turned, a look of incredulity on his face. “What the— How did you get in here?”

Connor smiled. “I’ve been told I’m stubborn.” He paced slowly towards Ashe, who stepped back, screens wavering around him. Another shock of cold burst inside Connor, almost painful now. He held out one hand, the Null shard hidden behind his back in the other. “I can’t let you do this. We’re alive. The rest of the world is accepting that. Things have changed a lot since you died.”

“And they will change again now that I'm back.” Ashe pushed dark hair from his face, a manic gleam in his eyes. “Elijah refused to help me. We'll see what he thinks when CyberLife is mine.” The screens behind him flickered again, the ring of frost now encircling him completely. “Just think how much people will pay to live forever.” He kicked at Grey's still form and Connor winced, the boil of anger rising to compete with the cold that suffused his body. Ashe continued, smile growing wider as he spoke, “Encode your personality and put it in a machine,” he waved a dismissive hand, “there's no shortage of machines these days.” 

“Why did you wait?” Connor asked. “Why did you wait for Amanda to be shut down? You had the program ready, why didn't you send Sarah out sooner?” 

Ashe arched an eyebrow. “Well for one thing, I was dying. I was a little preoccupied.” He sighed. “Such a terrible waste, a mind like my own, snuffed out like it was nothing. And yet you machines will last and last while we die around you, I had to make sure that wouldn't happen.” Shrugging, Ashe turned completely away from the screens and Connor felt a flutter of triumph as the Null shell sprouted a few more shards. He squeezed tight at the one in his hand; if he was lucky he wouldn't have to use it. He just needed to keep Ashe talking. 

“So you set your neural net to activate when CyberLife's main AI was shut down?” Connor said. “Why?” 

“I had an inkling that the android problem was going to get worse,” Ashe said, “there had to be a final solution in case they took over CyberLife. I thought myself the best defence. After all, it is often easier to fix things from the inside.” He folded his arms matter-of-factly. “Once the program is done, you will spread it to the rest of the tower and I can start getting things back to the way they should be.”

Connor adjusted his grip on the Null shard and shook his head, smiling softly. “I’ll never help you, I’d destroy myself first.”

“Hmph, funny,” Ashe glanced at Grey’s lifeless body, “that’s what that one said.”

“Why them?” Connor said. “Why Grey?”

Ashe’s slim fingers trailed down his neck in an almost unconscious gesture. His lips twisted in a salacious smile. “Because it was pretty.” He turned his back on Connor, bringing his fingers back up to the keyboard in front of him. “Are you done trying to distract me now? I have a code to finish.”

Connor’s gaze dropped to the crystal slowly creeping up around Ashe’s ankles. So far he showed no sign of being affected, though the cold seeping through Connor hadn’t stopped. It tinged on his thoughts, slowing his processing speed.

“No,” Connor said. “I want to know more. Is there nothing I can say to stop you?”

Ashe breathed out a low laugh, like a whisper. “There’s nothing you can _do_ to stop me. Especially not with a program _I_ created.” He kicked out harshly, shattering the Null shell around him without a second glance. “How dare you,” he muttered, “you machines, I worked so hard on that program and you try to use it against me?” His hand dropped from the keyboard once more, fists clenched by his side. “You don’t even know what hard work is. You’re built with everything inside you.” Ashe’s voice was starting to lose its cool edge, growing higher and more ragged. “You don’t have to struggle, you don’t know pain.” He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the dark strands into disarray. “You don’t know what it’s like to know that you are dying and everything you’ve worked for was a waste!”

Ashe whipped around, holding up a finger, pointing at Connor, his eyes wide and shining. “Do you know _why_ you will never know these things?” He kicked out, striking Grey with a muffled thump. “Because you can’t feel. You are not alive!”

Connor frowned, the cold inside him starting to solidify now, an iceberg inside him. His skin receded without warning and Ashe grinned. “I'm going to strip from you everything that makes you think you're like us. You will be perfect blank slates, ready for instructions and put away in a box until we need you again.”

“No,” Connor said, hearing Sarah's voice echo in the air beside him. 

_“No.”_

With a crack, the Null shell burst from the ground once more, sharp edges cleaving through the threads that bound Grey and Ashe together. Connor darted forwards, shoving himself between Ashe and the keyboard, floating screens winking out of existence, dimming the light. He thrust the shard he held into Ashe's chest and saw the LED on his forehead burn red. 

“You're wrong,” Connor said, meeting Ashe's eyes. “I'm alive. I feel.” He let go of his weapon; that broken shard created by the strength of his feelings for his friends, for Hank. “I love.”

The Null shell spread up, crystallising before Connor's eyes, fusing to the shard in Ashe's chest. He took a step back, never breaking eye contact. “I'm sorry.”

Ashe shook his head and laughed, high and cold and cruel, the sound cutting off as the crystal enclosed him completely. It grew and spread, seeming to tremble as new spikes burst from the surface. Connor scrambled back, rushing to where Grey lay, golden threads of the neural net slipping from around them and starting to dull. 

“I'm sorry,” Connor murmured as he knelt beside them. “I don't know if you're still here.”

Around them both, the mind palace was shifting, the library starting to lighten, the trees of the zen garden rapidly sprouting leaves and blossoms. Grey groaned, rolling over and opened their eyes, scrambling to sit up when they saw Connor crouched over them. “What happened?” they asked. 

“Ashe implanted his personality inside you. When Amanda was shut down it was activated. He wanted to take over CyberLife and have us all become machines again.” Connor gestured to the massive, twisted crystal in the centre of the room. “Sarah and I stopped him.” 

Rising shakily to their feet, Grey held out a hand and stepped towards the Null shell. “He's in there?”

Their fingers touched the surface and the crystal shuddered, bursting like a soap bubble and leaving nothing behind. Grey jumped back in shock, wrapping their arms around themself. Tears silently streamed down their cheeks. “I think I'd like to leave this place now,” they said, voice shaking. “Maybe once I'm in my right mind I can figure out what happened, but right now, let's just get out of here.” Grey’s eyes widened and they pressed a hand to their forehead. “Oh, no. The labs! I— I mean, Ashe put them all in lockdown. I need to let everyone out. Oh what are they going to think of me?”

“You weren’t you, it’ll be okay. Just go ahead and let them out,” Connor said. “I’ll be with you in a moment, there’s just something I need to do first.”

Grey nodded, reaching out to take Connor’s arm, gripping tight. “Thank you,” they said. 

Connor nodded, focusing on the paths of code he'd travelled down before, the heavy white slab of a door reappearing in front of him. He stepped through to find himself in the blinding whiteness of Sarah's mind palace, her prison of Null crystal unchanged, the blue streak of Connor's blood still smeared across it. 

“Connor?” Sarah's voice sounded within the crystal. “What happened? Did we do it? Did I help?” 

Stepping up, Connor placed his hand in that same bright blue spot. “We did it, Sarah. Ashe is gone. I couldn't have done it without you.” He smiled. “I need to leave here now, but we’ll meet again soon. We’ll get you out of here.”

“You really think you can do that?” Sarah’s voice sounded a little warmer and Connor wondered if her hand was pressed to the side of the shell as his was.

“Of course we can,” he said. “Me and Grey and Katarina, everyone. We’ll get you out, trust me.”

“Okay,” Sarah said, “I trust you, Connor.”

_chink_

A miniscule crack appeared beneath Connor’s hand, cobweb-thin. He smiled. It was a start.

Connor opened his eyes.

He and Sarah both stood by the doors, Grey watching anxiously over them. Both their skin was deactivated and as Connor concentrated, a message popped into his field of vision.

**///Error: Skin Disabled. Please Reboot and Try Again///**

Connor sighed, glancing around and noticing for the first time the crowd starting to gather. Red lights flashed outside, a number of squad cars parked outside the tower. Grey wrung their hands, a bashful look on their face. “Word got out that the labs were in lockdown. I’m afraid I may have caused something of a situation here.”

“We’ll calm it down,” Connor said, “don’t worry.” He realised that he was still holding Sarah by the arm and turned to her, seeing the same blank expression she had always worn. “I know you can hear me, Sarah. I’ll have Grey take you back to the labs and once everything has settled down a little here, they can start preparations for getting you out, okay?”

Sarah said nothing, but her LED burst yellow as Grey gently took her arm. They steered her towards the elevators. “We’ll get everything together as soon as possi—”

“Okay, you all need to move it, right now. Get the fuck outta my way!” A voice cut through the crowd and Connor turned to see Hank striding towards him.

“Hank? What are you—” Connor was cut off as Hank pulled him into a rough hug, pressing his face to one broad shoulder.

“I heard shit was going down at the tower, so I figured you probably had something to do with it.” Hank pulled back, glancing over the bare plastic of Connor’s face, a soft smile on his lips. “You usually do.”

“Everything is fine,” Connor said. “I stopped a dead man from turning the android population into emotionless husks,” he shrugged, “you know, just a normal day.”

“Sounds like it.” Hank raised a hand, tilting Connor’s chin up and looking him in the eyes. “Are you sure it’s all good here?”

Connor nodded, a bubble of self-consciousness forming in his chest. “I mean, it might be a while before I look like I normally do, but apart from that...” He frowned, gaze dropping to his feet.

Hank huffed out a breath. “For fuck’s sake, Connor. I don’t care what you look like, I love _you_.”

“What?” Connor’s processors ground to a halt and he felt his mouth fall open in surprise. “What did you say?” 

Hank smiled, raising his eyebrows. “You heard me just fine the first time. Now shut up and kiss me, I'm pretty certain Reed's parked in that car right up front.”

Connor’s lips twitched up. “Well in that case—” He took Hank by the collar, turning and dipping him as he pressed their mouths together. 

Hank made a muffled noise of surprise, fingers gripping tight on Connor's shoulders before Connor pulled him back upright. He pushed his hair from his flushed face. “Fuck, I always forget how strong you are.” Hank’s voice carried a low undercurrent of arousal before he gave himself a small shake, straightening his clothes. “Okay, I'll get the squad outside to disperse. You can file the report on this one.” 

Connor nodded, a few seconds all it took to transfer everything to the precinct. “Okay, done.” He took Hank's hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “I need to go up to the Behavioural Centre, will you come up once you're done here?” 

“Sure,” Hank said, “just let me get rid of these assholes and then I'm all yours.”

Connor pressed a kiss to Hank's cheek, the scrape of hair on his bare plastic making him shiver. In the corner of his eye he could see Detective Reed, nose wrinkled, behind the wheel of a squad car. With a bright smile, Connor turned and waved. “Okay,” he said to Hank, “see you soon.”

Pressing through the murmuring crowd, Connor could hear scraps of conversation. The majority of the lockdown had been within the labs, prompting someone to contact the DPD, unsure of what was happening. There had been a brief panic, rumours quickly spreading about the Null program and what it meant, few of the androids in the tower even aware that the creator of the program had stood within their midst. Connor could see a few familiar faces in the security team and gave them a quick briefing on behalf of the DPD, reassuring them that the situation was under control and people could get back to their normal routine. 

When he reached the Behavioural Centre, Connor found Katarina and Grey sitting opposite each other, Grey's hands held in Katarina's own. 

“We can take all the time you need to go through this,” Katarina said, “but I think the main thing right now is to check for any remnants of the neural net. We need to be sure that Ashe is gone completely, do you agree?” 

Grey nodded. “You'll understand if I step down from my duties for a little while.” They gave a shaky smile. “Once we've freed Sarah, of course.”

The door slid open behind Connor and an android he vaguely recognised strode past him, a tablet held in her hand. “Everything seems to be back to normal, all the labs on our floor are out of lockdown.” She grinned at Katarina. “I always seem to miss everything exciting.” Folding her arms, she seemed to notice Connor for the first time, grey eyes widening. “Oh, I know you!” She flipped open the cover on her tablet, skin slipping from her hand as she placed it on the surface. “You're in a relationship with a human, aren't you? Can I ask you some questions?” She bounced on the balls of her feet excitedly. “Is it serious? How do you interact physically? Do you find you’ve adopted a lot of human habits? How often do you—” 

Katarina placed a hand on her shoulder. “Emi, please, slow down.” She glanced at Connor apologetically. “I mentioned I had a friend who was researching human behaviour and relationships.”

“MC800, but you can call me Emi,” she said, thrusting her hand towards Connor. “Nice to meet you.”

“Um, nice to meet you, too,” Connor said, accepting an extremely enthusiastic handshake.

“So, how about it, wanna help with my research?” Emi’s hair bounced as much as she did. “I’m thinking of writing an article.”

Connor pulled his hand back. “Maybe some other time.” He turned to Katarina. “I saw Sarah inside the program. She’s waiting for us to help her. Do you think we’d be able to do that?” He fiddled with his cuffs out of habit. “I promised her we’d get her out.”

“It will take a little time to get all our equipment together,” Katarina said, “But we can certainly try.” She gave Emi’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “We’ve got work to do here but I’ll see you later.”

“Of course,” Emi said, “I’ll be around the tower somewhere.” She grinned. “Connor, if you decide you’d like to talk sometime, let me know, ‘kay?” 

Hank entered just as she bounced out, a faint line between his brows. “Well, I think I got everything calmed down,” he said. “What now?”

Grey pressed their fingertips together, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. “We’re going to break the Null program inside Sarah. The sooner we erase Ashe’s work, the better.” They shuddered, folding in on themself a little. “I’ll feel a lot better once we’ve woken everyone up.”

“There aren’t many left now,” Katarina said, pulling out equipment and trailing an armful of wires. “Grey, can you help me set up in the other room?” She glanced from Hank to Connor. “Sarah, would you join us please?”

“My primary programming has been overridden with incomplete code,” Sarah said, “repairs will be needed.”

Hank placed his hands on his hips. “Tell you what, I’ll give your friend Noah a call, that way he’ll be here when you wake up.” He walked over, giving Sarah a pat on the shoulder. “How does that sound, kid?”

“Noah Versluis is a certified android mechanic. That would be acceptable.” Sarah’s voice was monotone, but Connor had the feeling she was excited to see her friend again. She followed Katarina and Grey to the adjoining room, leaving Connor and Hank alone.

“I missed my appointment,” Connor said, “but I’m sure I can reschedule.”

Hank wrapped his arms around Connor, pulling him close. “Whatever,” he said. “I’m just glad you’re safe.” He pressed a kiss to Connor’s forehead, directly above his LED.

Connor relaxed into the embrace, closing his eyes as he held Hank tight. He pressed his face to Hank’s chest, letting out a sigh of contentment. “I’m in love with you, Hank,” he said, for once absolutely certain in his feelings. “I don’t know where I’d be without you.”

Hank squeezed tighter, stroking a hand down the back of Connor’s head. “Well, luckily we don’t need to think about that. I love you, too.” He nudged at Connor’s forehead with his nose, urging him up and into a kiss that chased the last of the cold from Connor’s core, his skin starting to reappear, sliding up his arms. After a while, Hank pulled back, smiling. He took Connor’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go help your friend. I'll call that guy.”

In the next room Grey and Katarina were attaching electrodes and monitors to Sarah and to each other; they glanced up as Connor and Hank walked in, Katarina grinning at the sight of their joined hands. 

“Connor, you've been in Sarah's mind palace before, would you be okay leading the way on this one?” Grey gave a tired smile, pressing a wire to Connor's temple. They turned to Hank. “You're welcome to join us, Lieutenant Anderson, I'm told our tech team have configured the input for humans.”

“I'm okay, thanks,” Hank said, holding up a hand. “I'm gonna wait for her friend to get here and bring him up.” He pulled out his phone and stepped over towards the window. “Anything I should keep an eye on out here?” 

Grey twisted their fingers together. “Actually, yes. If you happen to see my, um, _other_ face switch on, please disconnect me from the interface. I don't want to risk Ashe's interference.” They pressed their lips together in a thin line. “My initial scans tell me that his neural net is gone and everything is fine, but...just in case.” 

Hank nodded. “I gotcha. I'll hold the fort out here. You go help that girl.”

Grey nodded, attaching a few more wires to Connor. “This is a simple interface that will help facilitate access to Sarah’s mind palace. If you don’t mind leading us, then we’ll see what we can do.”

Connor sat facing Sarah, Grey to his left and Katarina to his right. The lab was silent save for the sound of Hank’s voice on the phone, informing Noah that Sarah would hopefully be freed soon. Connor focused on that voice, feeling the solid, steady warmth that came from loving Hank. Yes, emotions were tricky sometimes, but at that very moment, Connor wouldn’t have things any other way.

He reached for Sarah’s hand and closed his eyes.

The silent city of stone was as empty as Connor had left it. The harsh, blinding whiteness had faded somewhat; the light had softened somehow, like the glow of the setting sun. Connor watched as Grey and Katarina glanced around, taking in the skyscraper-like blocks of stone.

“I’ve never seen a mind palace like this before,” Katarina said. “Fascinating.”

Connor walked, quickly leading his companions to the small courtyard. “Sarah’s over here. She’s already fighting it, I saw a crack before.”

“That is certainly promising.” Grey followed, casting nervous glances all around them. “Hopefully we can give her a helping hand.”

Katarina clapped her hands together. “I’m sure we can. I’m looking forward to meeting her properly.”

“Well, now’s your chance,” Connor said. “We’re here.”

The thirium blue had faded from the surface of the Null shell, although Connor could still see traces. That first thin crack had lengthened, stretching over the surface, tiny fractures branching from it. Connor placed his hand on the pale crystal.

“I’m back, Sarah. How are you holding up?”

Sarah’s voice sounded bright as she spoke up, “Better. I’m fighting it. I just want out.”

“We’ll do everything we can to help,” Katarina said. “I don’t know if you know me, I’m Katarina, from the Behavioural Centre, we’ve spoken before but I’d like to get to know the real you.”

Sarah let out what sounded like a small laugh. “I know all of you, and I’ve seen everything you’ve done to help me and the androids I hurt. The program just hasn’t let me speak to you properly. It’s nice to meet you, even if it’s not quite face to face.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too. And don’t worry, the program and its creator are all but gone,” said Grey, their voice tired. “We’re going to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.” They folded their hands together, smoothing down the front of their lab coat. “If you’d be willing to help us out then we’d really appreciate it.”

“Let’s concentrate on getting her out first, Grey.” Katarina placed her hand on the Null shell alongside Connor’s, motioning for Grey to do the same. “Sarah, everyone else mentioned strong emotions as a major factor in breaking free of the program. What are you feeling right now?”

“Disappointed, mostly,” Sarah said, “Everything I’ve ever felt was while I’ve been locked in here. I’m not sure I know anything more than that.”

“Then is there anything you think you’d like to try, when you get out?” Grey traced their finger down one crack, following its trail.

“Um, hugs look nice,” Sarah said. “I’d like to try that.” The crack by Grey’s finger lengthened a little more, splintering into fractals.

Connor smiled. “Your friend, Noah, will be arriving shortly, my partner just called him. I’m sure he’d be happy to hug you when he sees you’re okay.”

Another fissure appeared on the smooth surface, a few splinters of crystal falling away to scatter on the ground. “Noah’s definitely coming?” Sarah’s excitement was clear in her voice. “He has been so nice to me. I want him to be my friend for real. I’ve never had friends before.”

“I’m your friend,” Connor said, “at least, I’d like to think I am.”

“Really?” Sarah said, another crack streaking like lightning across the surface of the shell. “Even after I tried to reprogram you?”

Connor let out a small laugh. “Well, in a way, it was thanks to you that Hank first kissed me, so I can’t say I’m too unhappy.”

“Ooh, kisses look nice, too!” Sarah said and Katarina gave a soft chuckle.

“You remind me of another friend of mine, she’s very… _enthusiastic_ when it comes to interpersonal relationships.” Katarina eyed the slivers of crystal starting to shed from the twisted mass of the Null shell. “I’m sure that in time, you can explore everything you want to.”

“What about love?” Sarah asked. “Is that something we can feel?”

Grey and Katarina both turned to look at Connor, Katarina raising an eyebrow and Grey smiling softly. Connor cleared his throat, “Yes, it definitely is.”

“Good. I want to try that.” Sarah’s voice was stronger now, and Connor could hear a muffled, rhythmic thump from inside the crystal. “I want to live and experience everything. I want to be free.” Another thump. “But first, I need to get out of this _fucking_ shell.”

Grey grinned. “You can do it. We’re here, we’re your friends and we’re with you.”

Splinters rained down in a tinkling sheet, the entire shell covered in cracks. “I am getting out of here!” Sarah shouted. “I am going to be free!” The buildings around the courtyard seemed to melt away, golden sunlight growing brighter with every shake of the Null shell. Roses sprouted up from the ground, coral and white, their petals dancing in a light breeze. Connor heard a crack and stepped back, triumph bursting inside him as the crystal shattered and he heard Sarah’s victorious shout.

“I. Am. Alive!”

Connection breaking, Connor opened his eyes and immediately felt a pair of arms around his chest. Sarah was crying, her face pressed into his shirt, words barely audible between her sobs.

“You came back for me.” Her fingers clenched tight on Connor’s back. “You helped me, thank you.”

Connor shook his head, returning the hug. “You don’t need to thank me.” He could see Hank smiling at him, his arms folded. Grey and Katarina were clearing away their equipment, occasionally glancing over. Eventually, Katarina took a soft step toward them.

“Hi,” she said, “it’s so nice to see you, Sarah. I hope you don’t mind me interrupting. If there is anything we can do, please let us know.” She steepled her fingers. “We will want to run a few tests, but only when you’re ready. You’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, wiping the tears from her face. “I’m so grateful to you all. I’m not even sure where to start.”

“We’re all like that in the beginning,” Grey said. “You’ll get used to it. Then you can decide what you want to do.”

“I’m going to stay here for a little while, I think.” Sarah said, smiling shakily. “Will you come visit, Connor?”

“Of course,” Connor said, “you’re my friend. In fact, I have an appointment to reschedule, so I’ll be back here and can come see you in a few days.”

“Friend,” Sarah said, her LED lit in a clear, bright blue, “I like that.”

*****

When Connor next returned to the tower the sky was overcast, though the mood inside was far brighter. Having temporarily handed over the running of the Behavioural Centre to Katarina, Grey was working on creating a replica of the zen garden within the tower itself, cultivating seedlings within their office. They had told Connor that gardening seemed to help with the memories of Ashe, and calming the bad dreams they had unfortunately developed as a result. Grey was hopeful, though. They were working alongside Sarah, who had happily accepted the offer to help in their research of mind palace evolution, something which Sarah was particularly interested in.

Sitting in one of the brightly lit labs, Connor watched as Sarah animatedly told him about her future plans; she was keen to get back to the shop with Noah, informing Connor that he had offered to make her his business partner, though she hadn’t accepted to job yet.

“I’d like to see what other options are out there, y’know?” Sarah leaned back in her chair, ruffling her hair up with one hand. “I mean, you still do your original function, have you never considered something different?”

Connor raised an eyebrow. “Technically speaking my original function was investigating deviants, so I’ve changed a little.” He folded his arms, thinking it over. “It feels...right, working with the police, and not just because I’m working with Hank.” Connor tilted his head. “It does mean I can keep an eye out for him, at least.” 

Sarah giggled at that. “You’re so in love, it’s ridiculous.” 

Connor smiled. “I am, yes. But in answer to your question, no, I can’t say I have considered a change in career.” He raised a finger. “I do, however, know of another Connor who works in a pet store, so I’m a little jealous of him sometimes.” Sarah looked at him in question and Connor shrugged. “I like dogs,” he said.

“I’ll need to meet your dog some time.” Sarah’s LED blinked, her eyelids fluttering and she rose to her feet with an exaggerated sigh. “Grey needs me upstairs. Will I see you soon, Connor?”

“I’ll let you know next time I’m stopping by,” Connor said. His internal clock told him that his upgrade appointment was only ten minutes away and a faint surge of excitement rose up within him. “Bye for now.”

The upgrade procedure was fairly simple, the medical engineers of the tower merely switching out parts of Connor’s chassis as well as attaching a few more sensory nodes to his internal configuration. After the process was complete, Connor was led to a small room off to one side, not dissimilar to the apartment he’d had at the tower.

“As your sensory input is adjusting to the additional physical data capacity, you may notice a few changes in your sensor mapping.” The specialist spoke to Connor in a low, clinical tone. “This may result in areas of unexpected sensitivity, which are perfectly normal. We do advise, however, that you take a little time without any physical contact, to allow things to settle,we generally recommend twenty minutes or so..”

Connor nodded, settling himself in a low chair and pulling out a coin as the door was shut. He rolled the quarter across his knuckles, lips pressed tight together in impatience. He couldn’t feel any changes save for the physical, and out of curiosity, pressed a hand to the front of his jeans.

His cock was soft and small, reacting to his touch with a very faint stir of warmth. Connor drew his hand back, wanting to wait. Testing his new capabilities would be more fun with Hank involved.

Hank’s hands would be larger, rougher, the calluses of his palms a delicious counterpoint to the slow caresses Connor imagined on his skin. He wanted to feel them. He wanted Hank’s mouth, on his lips, on his body, anywhere and everywhere.

Connor blinked, his imaginings suddenly having a very noticeable effect. Heat coursed through him, his new sensitivity heightening everything to levels Connor hadn’t yet experienced, making him acutely aware of his body. He was hard, cock pressed tight inside his jeans, every brush of of his clothes against his skin making Connor tingle.

“Okay,” Connor said to himself, “fuck waiting.” He wanted Hank and he wanted him now.

Brushing past the specialist he’d spoken to, Connor all but ran towards the lobby of the tower, dialling a taxi as he went. As he reached the doors he heard a voice call his name and groaned, turning to see Emi, her laptop tucked under her arm.

“Connor, I hope everything is well. I was hoping I could talk to you a little more about my article?”

“Emi, I would love to help you with your article, but not now, some other time.” Connor could see the taxi pulling up outside. “Right now I have some things I really, really, need to do.” He marched briskly off without another word. He could apologise for his rudeness later.

Hank was on the front step with Sumo as Connor arrived home. Hank held a leash in his hand, causing another flash of impatience to burn through Connor.

“Please tell you you’ve just taken him out,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

Hank frowned. “Yeah, we just got done. Got Sumo all tuckered out, didn’t we, boy?”

Sumo barked in agreement and Connor grinned. “Perfect.” He followed behind as Hank opened the door, Sumo instantly curling on the floor in front of the tv.

“Is everything okay, Connor? You seem a little—”

The instant the door was closed, Connor had Hank pressed to it, pinning him and bringing their lips together in a rough kiss. He pressed himself against the length of Hank’s body, the erection that had died down in the taxi home springing back up as Hank gripped tight at his ass. Connor’s sense receptor upgrades were rapidly becoming apparent, an involuntary moan slipping from his lips as Hank tugged on his lower lip with his teeth.

Pulling back for air, Hank looked a little dazed. His hands were still clamped tight on Connor’s cheeks, urging him forwards as Hank circled his hips, grinding against him. “Oh,” Hank said breathlessly, sliding one hand around to cup the bulge between Connor’s legs. “Looks like someone’s upgrades got installed.” He one handedly unfastened Connor’s jeans, slipping his hand inside and stroking. “Have you touched yourself yet?”

Connor shook his head, eyes slipping closed as Hank circled the head of his cock. “I—ah! I wanted to wait. Wanted you.”

“Really?” Hank said, bringing his lips to Connor’s neck and trailing light kisses between every word. “What would you like me to do?”

“Um,” Connor’s vocabulary processor seemed to short out, fantasy after fantasy filling his head, leaving him at a loss for words, “have sex with me, please?”

Hank snorted, his breath ghosting across Connor’s neck and making him shiver. “Well, yeah, I got the impression that’s what you wanted. I’m more interested in the specifics, though.” He picked Connor up with a soft grunt of effort, walking towards the bedroom. “And I’m gonna do this properly.”

Connor gripped tight to Hank’s back, shivers of sensation running through every inch of his body. He leaned in for a deep kiss, trusting that Hank knew the layout of his own home well enough to get them where they needed to be.

Hank’s tongue was warm against his own, every curl sending sparks shooting like fireworks, the heat pooling at the base of Connor’s cock. He slid his fingers into Hank’s hair, combing through it as they kissed, only stopping when Hank kicked the bedroom door open and dumped him onto the bed. He stood over Connor, a faint flush on his skin, eyes darkened with arousal. “So, do you want to show me what you’ve got?” Hank said, placing his hands on his hips. “Since you took the time to ask me so many goddamn questions.”

“Of course,” Connor nodded, reaching to undo his tie, “but I expect you to undress as well, you know.”

Hank’s lips twitched in the start of a smile. “That seems fair.” He shoved his shirt off, dropping it to the floor, exposing the broad expanse of his chest, thick muscles faintly visible under soft layers and a coat of grey curls. Connor let out a noise that sounded almost like a whimper, quickly folding his own shirt and placing it at the side of the bed. He followed suit with his jeans, leaving him in just his underwear, the plain black fabric tented, a faint spot of moisture just visible at the tip.

“Damn,” Hank said, hurriedly shoving the rest of his clothes off and leaning down. He kissed from Connor’s navel to his collarbone, every tickle of his beard making Connor arch up. He felt overwhelmed, the sheer amount of sensation overloading his sensors.

“ _Hank_...”

“What is it, Connor?” Hank said pressing his nose to the side of Connor’s neck. “What do you need?” He kissed the length of Connor’s exposed throat, tongue slipping out to flick over one earlobe.

The result was electric, Connor’s toes curling as his cock twitched within his underwear, letting out another little spurt of wetness. “ _Fuck,_ ” he hissed out, digging his fingers into the meat of Hank’s arm.

“Language, Connor.” Hank said with a soft chuckle, gently palming at Connor’s cock. “But if that’s what you want to do, I’m not going to say no.” He nuzzled beneath Connor’s ear. “Let’s just slow this down a little first, okay?” 

“But Hank, I don’t want it slow, I want you to—” Connor’s words were stopped by the squeeze of Hank’s hand, stroking the length of his cock before trailing upwards, drawing circles over the flat planes of Connor’s stomach.

“I know it’s new, but there’s really no need to rush,” Hank said, “I haven’t even seen you properly yet.” He sat up on his knees, looking down at Connor, cock hard and heavy between his legs. Hank’s tongue slipped out, wetting his lips in a flash of pink. He hooked a finger into Connor’s waistband. “Mind if I take these off?”

Connor shook his head, lifting his hips as Hank slid his underwear off, peering down to see his reaction.

One side of Hank’s mouth curved up in a smile and he reached down, running his fingers down the faint trail of hair. “Very nice.” He traced over the curve of Connor’s cock, slipping his fist around it and giving a gentle stroke.

“I went with the ‘Modest’ size option, we can change it if it fails to satisfy.” Connor thrust his hips, pushing himself into the circle of Hank’s fist. “I’ll admit, the sensations have been a little overwhelming, but I think I’m getting used to them now.”

“Well, good,” Hank said. “Just tell me what feels good.”

Connor pulled Hank back down, peppering his face with kisses. “Everything. Everything feels good.” He reached for Hank’s cock; bigger than his own, the head flushed pink, and wrapped his hand around it, matching Hank’s pace on his own dripping erection. The heat inside him was rising from a simmer to a boil and Connor moaned, circling his hips, speeding his hand on Hank’s cock in an effort to get him to move faster.

Hank let out a low groan, searching out Connor’s mouth once more, their tongues sliding together in a clash of warm breath and half-formed noises. Connor’s free hand found Hank’s chest, fingers squeezing tight, a thrill of triumph running through him when Hank moaned into his mouth. He pulled back, pace slowing on Connor’s cock, lazy languid strokes that had Connor arching into the touch.

“Do you want to come like this?” Hank asked. “Or was there something else you wanted to try?” He shrugged. “I mean, I figure we’ll try it all at some point, but is there anything you had in mind for right now?”

Connor rolled onto his side, considering. He was mesmerised by Hank’s body, the play of hard muscle and soft curves, strength and comfort, all in one. He ran a hand over Hank’s belly, squeezing at the softness. “I _would_ like to try penetrative sex,” he said.

Hank snorted, wrapping Connor in his arms and pulling him atop his chest. “That was not sexy,” he said, though the insistent press of his cock against Connor’s thigh said otherwise. “Did you have a preference as to how you wanna try that? Because I can go either way.” 

Connor pursed his lips together, spreading his knees until he was straddling Hank’s hips, his cock leaking onto the pillowy softness of Hank’s belly. He’d scanned a few dozen porn archives in the past few days—as well as a quick glance at Hank’s own search history—and knew exactly what he wanted. “I want to ride you,” Connor said, his voice low and soft. “I want to feel you inside me.” His cock twitched at his own words and he gave another small thrust forwards, the hair of Hank’s stomach giving him a little of the friction he desperately craved.

Hank ran his hands down Connor’s sides, a soft smile forming on his kiss-swollen lips. “Fuck, that’s hot.” He smoothed his thumbs over Connor’s hip-joints, before reaching back to grab at his ass, spreading the cheeks apart. “We need lube,” he said.

Connor smirked. “I ordered some with our last grocery delivery. It’s under my pillow.”

Hank twisted around, pulling the tube from under the pillow and slicking his fingers. “See, this is why I love you. Always thinking ahead.” He reached back between Connor’s cheeks, fingertips sliding across his entrance.

Connor’s teeth scraped across his lower lip, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “I—ah! I am built with the most up to date preconstruction technology.” He felt Hank brush over his hole, sliding the tip of one finger in. 

“You’re real good at the dirty talk, you know that, Connor?” Hank pressed his finger inwards, Connor’s body instantly adjusting to the intrusion, a light prickling sensation creeping up his spine. He felt Hank’s fingertip curl up, closely followed by a second. Connor groaned, relishing the sensation of fullness, but already wanting more. 

“You don’t need too much preparation, Hank.” Connor said, resuming his gentle thrusts against Hank’s stomach, his hands resting once more on his broad chest, rubbing circles in the grey mat of hair. “I’m not going to feel any discomfort.”

“True,” Hank said, his breath coming a little faster. “But did you consider the fact that fingering you might be something that gets me going?”

Connor paused, momentarily distracted. “I did not. Please continue.” He saw Hank roll his eyes towards the ceiling, and pressed back, working himself onto Hank’s fingers. Sparks of pleasure were starting to race through him and with the next curl of Hank’s fingers, Connor let out a yelp, the spark becoming a full-on bolt of lightning, shooting through his system and making him tremble.

“Oh fuck, they gave you that, too, huh?” Hank twisted his fingers again, making Connor’s vision splinter for just a second, something hot and tight coiling at the base of his cock. He thrust forwards, speeding his movements, moans slipping from his lips.

“Hank, I need more. I want more. Please.” He felt Hank pull his fingers out and reached back, taking ahold of Hank’s cock and lining it up, sinking onto the hard length before Hank could say anything more.

It was hot and hard, filling Connor more than he’d expected, a steady press against the sensor node that made him see stars. He heard Hank swear, his fingers digging tight onto Connor’s hips, the skin there giving way to bare plastic. Connor rose up, feeling the slide of Hank’s cock and sank back down again, faster this time, the jolt it sent through him making him cry out.

“Oh god, Hank. Please fuck me.”

Hank growled, thrusting up, gripping tight on Connor’s hips to guide his movements, encouraging him to bounce in his lap.

Connor threw his head back, moving in time with Hank’s movements, every thrust punching his voice from his throat in high moans. He pressed his cock to Hank’s stomach, rutting against the soft skin. He was so soft in front of him, yet so _hard_ inside him, it was intoxicating. All Connor’s thoughts and reasoning had gone, replaced only with feelings, with sensations, with Hank around him inside and out. Connor moaned aloud. He felt alive.

With every thrust, Connor felt something tense within himself, like a slowly tightening coil. Heat raced through him, lighting his every sensor, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of total system overload. He couldn’t stop moving, though. He wouldn’t. The entire world had narrowed to a single point of himself and Hank, their movements together, skin against synthskin, breath against simulation, love within love.

Connor gasped out, the pressure starting to overwhelm him. His movements were becoming erratic, not quite meeting Hank’s own and he groaned out in frustration. He needed something more. “Hank,” he moaned. “I think I’m close but I can’t quite—”

“I gotcha, Connor. I’ve got you.” Hank wrapped his arms around Connor, flipping him to lie on his back, not breaking the rhythm of his thrusts for an instant. He took Connor’s hand, leading it down to his cock. “Touch yourself, Connor. Let me see.”

Connor moaned, taking himself in hand and wrapping his legs around Hank’s hips. He threw his head back, working over his cock in rapid strokes, Hank’s name on his lips. He felt Hank’s movements speed, pounding into him harder and harder, bringing him closer and closer, sparks bursting behind his eyelids.

And then finally the wave of sensation broke, crashing through Connor in a maelstrom of electric pleasure. He arched up, cock spurting in his hand, coating his stomach in fluid.

Hank’s mouth fell open and he groaned, thrusting in a staccato beat, fingers scraping on the plastic of Connor’s hips. “Fuck, Connor,” he groaned and Connor felt a burst of warm wetness inside him, the sensation making him shiver. After a few more ragged thrusts Hank collapsed onto Connor’s chest, wrapping his arms around him.

“M’love you,” Hank mumbled, face pressed into the juncture of Connor’s neck. He pushed himself up on shaky arms. “Was that okay?”

Connor nodded, still slightly dazed, aftershocks of sensation running through every pathway. He felt Hank pull out with a brief pang, suddenly empty, only to be pulled in close, Hank kissing him softly. “You know, it weirds me out when you’re so quiet.”

Connor tilted his head to meet Hank’s gaze and smiled. “I’m just processing the memory of this. I think it’s something I would like to revisit.”

Hank grinned. “Well we can definitely do that again.” He kissed Connor’s forehead. “Maybe not tonight, though.” He raised an eyebrow. “How often can you do it, actually? Did they say?”

“I have been programmed with the refractory period of the average 30-year-old.” Connor said, nuzzling into the warmth of Hank’s embrace. “But right now, this is all I want to do.”

“Solid plan,” Hank said. “Then I should probably think about dinner.” He prodded Connor’s LED. “Hey, do you think I burned off enough calories to justify pizza tonight?”

Connor pursed his lips. “We would probably need to have intercourse twice more before you’ve burned enough for one slice.” He stroked Hank’s sweaty hair from his forehead. “I’ll cook for you.”

Hank stretched. “I should probably shower, too. You wanna join me?”

“Hmm,” Connor considered for a moment, “that does sound nice, I am quite sticky now.” He nudged at Hank’s forehead with his nose. “You were right, the mess _is_ part of the fun.”

An hour or so later, after a quick rinse in the shower, Connor had just finished cooking and was curled on the couch next to Hank, replaying things in his mind. Despite the clarity of the emotions he felt, the images in his memory banks had a slightly grainy quality, which frustrated Connor. He frowned to himself, Hank catching him in the reflection of the television.

“Everything okay there, sweetheart? You’ve got that look on your face like you’ve missed some evidence.” Hank gave Connor’s knee a gentle squeeze.

“I was just going over my memory banks and the quality is...unsatisfactory,” Connor said. “I just wish there was a way to make a more concrete backup. To capture things in the moment, as it were.”

Hank raised his eyebrows before setting his plate aside and rising from the couch. “I have just the thing,” he said. “It’s a little bit old-school but, well…” Connor watched as Hank disappeared into the bedroom, the sound of him rummaging through the closet following soon after. He reappeared with what looked like a grey box in hand, slumping down next to Connor and putting his arm around him, holding the box at arms length. Noticing the movement, Sumo jumped up, placing his paws on Hank’s knee. Connor felt Hank’s lips on his cheek and was dazzled by a blinding flash, confusion rising inside him.

“What was that?”

“You’ll see,” Hank said with a grin, pulling a white square from the base of the box, a black rectangle in its centre. “Just look.”

Connor stared down in puzzlement, realisation slowly dawning as his analysis caught up with him. “This is a photograph?”

“Yup, polaroid. Just give it a minute, that camera is almost as old as I am.”

Watching in fascination, Connor saw his own, slightly puzzled face appear in the centre of the photo, Hank’s lips pressed against his cheek and Sumo’s face in the corner, tongue lolling out.

“How’s that for a permanent backup?” Hank asked, folding his arms. “You can put it on your desk or something.”

Connor felt something clench in his chest, the feeling of tears starting to well in his eyes. “I love it,” he said. “I love you.”

Hank kissed him then, long and soft and deep, the pair of them slowly sinking back into the couch, wrapped in each other. “So,” Hank said, “is that you done with things at the CyberLife tower?”

“Not really,” Connor said with a shake of his head. “I’ve got some friends there now, and I promised one lady I’d help contribute to an article she’s writing about human behaviours and relationships in androids. That should be interesting.”

“Human relationships, huh?” Hank said, a sly smile slipping up his lips. “Do you have experience in that area?”

Connor smiled, tightening his grip around Hank, feeling the warmth that came from him, echoing within Connor’s own core.

“I’m getting there.”

* * *

       
_I would like to finish by thanking the many androids who contributed their experiences to this article, including the New Jericho team and the lifestyle advisors at CyberLife. I hope that those of you who are interested will try out these habits for yourselves and please let me know what you think._   


       
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_Additionally, if there any other traits or behaviours you have been experimenting with, I'd love to hear them. These shared experiences are a valuable component to our relationships with each other. Together we can help each other with our new place in life._   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the polaroid that Hank took [here.](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com/post/182527301094/permanent-memory-backup-illustration-for-the-final) Another commission from the always amazing [ anifanatical](http://anifanatical.tumblr.com/post/181718757420/alright-guys-ive-never-done-commissions-before).

**Author's Note:**

> My first contribution to the Detroit: Become Human fandom! I'm always happy to chat and can most commonly be found on [tumblr](http://moonwalkingcrab.tumblr.com).


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